


A Study in Time

by philaetos



Series: Studies [4]
Category: Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Dom/sub Undertones, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, I COULD NOT NOT HAVE A HAPPY ENDING, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Oh, Olivia!, Original Character(s), Post-Break Up, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, THAT’S A NICE TAG RIGHT, a few trigger warnings in the tags this time, but I’m going to make him a decent person I swear, come on i must have ONE nice tag to put, deniall wedding, far from it, i don’t want to be insulted in the comments, i guess i should add that to the tags considering the shit lamb and baz get up to, i’d rather warn, let me introduce to you...., oh i forgot something, so that you know what you’re getting in advance, take a wild guess as to who has those, that doesn’t mean the story in itself is going to be overly happy, though that would be fun, warning : i am going to do unspeakable things to baz’s hair, what else can i put in the tags, yes Lamb is going to be here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 50
Words: 166,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28655946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philaetos/pseuds/philaetos
Summary: “Time, mystical timeCuttin' me open, then healin' me fine”— invisible string, Taylor Swift———————————Simon and Baz have broken up, and they have to learn to live without the other
Relationships: Lamb/Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Simon Snow/Original Character(s), Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Studies [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010952
Comments: 619
Kudos: 184





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go again friends 
> 
> I hope you’ll still like this story! 
> 
> ——————————
> 
> “But man, I should have known  
> That I would mess this up  
> The best I've ever had  
> And just when I got used to thinking, this time it'll last  
> I can't believe I'm lettin' go  
> It's only for the best, you know”  
> — The Usual, Sam Fischer  
> (admittedly this one fit the last chapter of a Study in Loss more, but shhhh)
> 
> ——————————
> 
> “Should I tear my eyes out now?  
> Everything I see returns to you somehow  
> Should I tear my heart out now?  
> Everything I feel returns to you somehow”  
> — The Only Thing, Sufjan Stevens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I changed Baz’s baby sister’s name so that it would have an “ia” in it because all the other names do (Mordelia, Ophelia, Cordelia, Elias) so now the baby girl is Octavia (a name I shamelessly stole from 6643904379cS’s WIP) instead of Acantha

_3 weeks_

**Baz**

Everything reminds me of him.

Going back home was a terrible idea. It’s like the manor is pervaded by Simon Snow.

I can’t go anywhere without thinking of him.

In my room… Well, he has obviously left his mark in my room. When I manage to get myself out of bed, I sometimes still find little things he abandoned here. An half empty bag of those sweets he loves in my bedside table drawer. Those silly blue -the colour of his eyes- hair ties he used on me when he braided my hair, training for when Mordy would demand he braids hers, scattered on the bathroom counter and the drawers. The charger of his tablet -he was sure we’d lost it when we moved, I was convinced we’d just forgotten it home. I was right. 

But my room isn’t the only place.

In the living room, I see him sitting on the floor, playing with my sisters, or crouching in front of the playpen to talk to Octavia. 

In the kitchen, I see us cooking together, laughing. I see his blood on the floor and the sink, the first time I drank it.

In the dining room, I see him stuffing his mouth when he arrived, then progressively not eating more than he needed because now he knew food wouldn’t be taken from him. I see the unspeakable things he did to me here. I hear his first ‘I love you’.

In the garden, I see him running around, playing hide and seek with Ophelia and Cordelia. 

In the library, I see his face fall in horror as he finds out he has to give up his magic to save us all.

Even in the rooms he never entered, I’m reminded of him, of how he wanted to explore them. 

It’s unbearable.

But there’s nowhere else I could go. 

Fiona is still away, and honestly, I’d rather be with my parents than Fiona right now, I don’t want to hear anyone curse Simon. 

I don’t want to impose on Dev and Niall, they don’t need their miserable, heartbroken friend around their flat.

My father is still working on finding me a flat in London, but even with as much money as we have, it takes some time. 

So I have to be here, submerged in memories of the boy I love, to my parents’ greatest dismay. 

They were probably so relieved when I finally left in September, and now I’m back, and I’m even more of a burden than I even was. I know it. I don’t _mean_ to be a burden.

I wouldn’t be one if they just _left me alone._

**…**

**Simon**

Penny has been all over me since Baz and I broke up. She decided it was her duty as my best friend to be here for me in these trying times so she has momentarily moved here. I think it’s more because she wants to make sure that I’m eating well and having enough sleep and not doing anything stupid, but I’m still grateful.

I would hate to be alone.

I’m considering asking her if we can be flatmates, as we had planned. It would drive me mad if the flat fell silent whenever I closed my mouth. It makes me uneasy. Silence. I’m not used to it.

Besides, I like having Penny around. We have good times when I’m in a mood to do something other than cry over Baz with my face buried in his pillow.

It doesn’t smell like him anymore. No matter how hard I breath in, I can no longer smell him on the fabric.

It hurts more than something so insignificant probably should.

There are many other things about our _-the-_ flat that should hurt me more, but don’t.

Like how the bed is always cold on his side, but not the good kind of cold. Not _his_ kind of cold. Like how I don’t see his ridiculously posh shoes and his long black coat when I come home. Like how the bathroom counter is empty except for my toothbrush and toothpaste. Like how the blood in the freezer is useless now.

But no.

It’s the lack of his scent on his pillow that does it for me.

It’s funny, how missing someone works, isn’t it?

**…**

**Baz**

I’m in my third crying session of the day -a great improvement, I was at my fifth this time yesterday- when the door to my room opens.

Mordelia has lost her good habits, she doesn’t knock anymore. But I guess she can’t walk in on Snow and I snogging if Snow is no longer here.

That thought just brings more tears to my eyes. Bloody brilliant.

“Why is it so dark in here,” she complains as she turns the lights on.

I groan even though my face is buried in my pillow so the light doesn’t really bother me.

“If you’re not happy you can leave,” I mumble, my voice wet.

She doesn’t answer anything, but I hear her walk to my bed, and then climb on it. Merlin couldn’t she just _go_.

“Get out Mordy, I don’t want to play with you.”

She pulls the covers on the other side of the bed _-Simon’s_ side of the bed- and crawls next to me. I don’t move. Maybe if I ignore her she’ll get tired of it and leave.

“I don’t want to play either,” she says with a sad voice.

It makes my heart clench. I was perfectly fine with my own misery, I _really_ didn’t need to hear that my sister was sad too. Why would she even be sad? She’s 8 years old. You’re not supposed to be sad at 8 years old.

Well, I was. But I also had a dead mother and had been bitten by a vampire so I’d say those are valid reasons to make even a child melancholic.

“What do you want then?” I ask with a sigh.

She doesn’t answer _again_ , but seconds later, I feel her head on my shoulder and her little arms around my neck. It ties a knot in my throat.

“Mum said to leave you alone because you’re sad. I don’t like that you’re sad.”

Believe me, I don’t like it either.

“You should really listen to what your mum says.”

“Stop being mean,” she says, biting my shoulder. 

Crowley, this child.

“Outch! Don’t bite me!”

“Then stop being mean,” she answers, and I can perfectly picture her pouty lips.

“Just go, Mordelia. I can’t be mean to you if you’re not in my room.”

“I don’t want to go.”

She tightens her arms around me.

“Well, I want you to go. You’re bothering me.”

It’s getting harder controlling my voice for it not to tremble too noticeably. It’s getting harder controlling my breathing not to sob.

This time she pushes herself off of me.

“You’re so mean!” she shouts before she storms out.

I know, sweetheart, I know.

**…**

**Penny**

For someone going through a break up, Simon is in a strangely good mood. 

I hear him cry at night, sometimes, but during the day, he’s just Simon. A damaged version of Simon, because of all the terrible things he had to face and didn’t really work on coping, but Simon. He grins and says silly things that would make a 5-year-old roll their eyes at him and sigh when I bring up the words “uni” or “work” and splatters butter on half of the things he eats and gets excited about little things, like a cat he saw during his daily jog or a show he likes being on tv.

There’s just one thing that’s truly different.

He hasn’t said the word “Baz” in days, and if there’s one thing I’ve learnt from all those years I’ve been friends with him, it’s that Simon can’t keep Baz Pitch off his mouth, no matter how much I tell him to. He _wouldn’t_ do it unprompted.

I think it’s a way for him not to think about the break up, not talking about it, which isn’t necessarily a good thing to do but he did tell me how he felt that first night when I held him as he cried his eyes out, so I suppose I should let him deal with this how he sees fit.

As long as he remains fed, hydrated, well-rested and isn’t in too bad a mental place, I’m not going to ask him to change his behavior. It may be difficult to accept sometimes, but Simon’s an adult. I don’t have to baby him all the time.

But no one ever truly took care of him, not until Watford and _me._ I feel… compelled to keep giving him the care he so deeply lacked his entire childhood, to make up for lost time. 

Besides, I think he is a bit overwhelmed when he doesn’t have someone to guide him, in many aspects, so he likes it when I mind his business. In my opinion, it’s because being told what to do, having clear instructions about what he should do and when, gives him a sense of security and certainty he could definitely use.

Which is why, for as long as I’m going to stay here -which I suspect will be a long time, though we haven’t broached the topic of me moving in permanently yet ; it’s only been three weeks- we’ve set ground rules.

I bought a cork board, and pinned several things on it. First of all, a list of times we set together ; lunch and dinner, the later we’re allowed to sleep in, who uses the shower when. Then, a list of chores, that we once again decided on together. When I cook, he does the dishes and vice versa, he cooks dinner, I cook lunch. We do the laundry once a week, on saturday afternoon ; he puts it in the washer and hangs it, and I fold and, if necessary, iron it. We each clean our room, switch who cleans the kitchen and who does the bathroom, and I deal with the living room because I don’t like how he does it and always end up criticizing it. 

We also have a bloc of sticky notes for things we -Simon- shouldn’t forget.

So far, this has worked well for us.

No, really, everything seems fine.

 _Seems_.

I don’t know if he _really_ is fine, but Simon is terrible at hiding his feelings, so I assume he must actually be more or less okay.

**…**

**Malcolm**

“Daphne, Ophelia’s been yelling for you for the past 5 minutes and she won’t take ‘Mummy’s busy’ as an answer, could you plea…”

I freeze when I walk in the kitchen,

There are some strange sights I’ve grown accustomed to, living in a house with 5 little children, a son who happens to be a vampire, and where my ex-wife’s crazy sister likes to come unannounced, but I must say that my wife bleeding in a cup from a neat cut on her wrist _isn’t_ a sight I ever thought I’d be confronted to. 

I’m going to go mad, someday.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

I try to keep my voice down despite my shock, but she still flinches. 

“Making your son dinner,” she answers, clearing her throat.

I reach for the counter to support myself or I might faint. 

“ _This_ isn’t dinner.”

She looks at me over her shoulder, a determined look on her face. 

“It’s part of it. Whether you want it or not, Baz needs blood to function and…”

“Not like that, Daphne for magic’s sake.”

She can’t be serious. She can’t possibly be thinking that this is a good idea. 

She turns back to her cup, watching the blood flow in it. It makes me mildly sick, and the sight of blood usually leaves me indifferent. This isn’t the same thing, though. It’s the reason _why_ I’m seeing blood that turns my stomach.

“And how else do you suggest he gets it?” she asks, her voice calm but firm. “I don’t know if you've noticed, but Basil hasn’t left his room in more than a week. I don’t even think he’s gotten out of bed during that time. He’s refused practically every tray of food I brought him up, and the few he accepted, he didn’t eat, or didn’t eat much. He is in _no state_ to go to the forest. So unless _you_ want to go there and kill an animal to collect its blood, this is the most suitable solution we have at this very moment.”

As she says that, she presses a paper towel to her cut, soaking up some of the blood. 

Then, she closes her other hand on her necklace and whispers a spell to close the cut. I answer as she washes her arm with tap water from the sink.

“This is _human_ blood, Daphne. It’s in no way, shape, or form the most suitable solution. Baz can’t drink human blood.”

She turns around only to roll her eyes at me. “Malcolm. I’m sorry to break it to you, but I’m pretty sure he has already.”

My eyes go wide. No… Baz wouldn’t...

“What?”

“Well, when he still lived here, Simon might have let something slip while talking to me that suggests Baz had drunk his blood.”

**…**

**Daphne**

Malcolm looks sicker, and I don’t know if it’s because I mentioned Simon -since Baz came back home, we’ve avoided talking about him, even Mordelia has caught up on that- or because he’s thinking about Baz drinking human blood.

It might very well be both.

I put the cup I just filled on the tray where I already placed a plate with the same food we ate for dinner, a glass of water with strawberry syrup -Baz is like his sisters, he loves this- and an apple, cut into pieces. Then, I take the tray in my hands and start walking out, but Malcolm stops me by placing himself in front of me, saying with an outraged voice. “ _Daphne._ ”

I let out a sigh. He can be so irritating sometimes. 

“Listen, I don’t think it’s that big of a deal, alright? If Baz was biting people against their will, it would be, but if he truly drank Simon’s blood, that’s not what happened, and that’s not what’s happening now either. He needs blood, I have plenty of it. I don’t see what’s the harm, really. Now move out of my way, please darling.”

“ _Daphne_ ,” he says again, more insistently.

“Would you rather your son starves?” I say, my voice less calm than I always try to keep it. “He hasn’t been feeding himself, Malcolm, this is serious. Not eating is already bad for him, but if you add that to the fact that he hasn’t drunk any blood in days, it’s starting to be a problem. I didn’t want to interfere because I know it will probably make him want to refuse to ingest anything _more_ , but he’s taken it too far so there’s no choice. Now _move out of my way_ so that I can make sure your son _finally_ gets some nutrients down his throat.”

This time he steps aside, his face paler than usual. Thank Merlin. 

I don’t like raising my voice, but sometimes Malcolm simply won’t listen unless I do. 

“I’m coming with you.”

**…**

**Baz**

Someone knocks on my door.

Is it possible to have some bloody peace in this house?

I don’t answer. Whoever it is -probably Daphne- can walk in anyway. Apparently, I still can’t be trusted not to do something stupid if my door is locked. 

“Baz, I brought you dinner honey.”

So yes, Daphne. That’s not surprising. She’s been coming twice every day, the first time after putting the babies to bed for their afternoon nap and the second time, after putting them to bed for the night.

She always brings food that I usually don’t eat.

I haven’t felt much like eating, lately.

I haven’t felt much like doing anything except pitying myself and crying over the love of my life. 

“I’m not hungry,” I answer automatically.

“Basil, you haven’t had a proper meal in days. There’s no way you aren’t hungry,” Daphne says, tiredness in her voice.

She must be so fucking done with my bullshit. She should just give up, then. No one’s asking her to take care of me, especially not me.

“But. I. Am. Not. Hungry.”

“Baz, please. I’m putting your food on your cupboard, I’d like it if you could eat some of it,” she insists as she opens the door, probably just enough to slip the tray inside my room.

“I’m not fucking hungry, Daphne! Just leave me alone!”

The door is hurriedly opened, wide enough to let someone in, I’m sure, and then slammed shut. I jump and turn around, surprised that Daphne would…

It’s not Daphne.

My father is standing just in front of the door, the tray Daphne brought up in his hands. 

Merlin.

“Sit down,” he orders with that cold, commanding voice that made me shit my pants when I was a kid.

I don’t move. He walks towards my bed, putting the tray down on the ledge of the window, pushing the books I layed on it aside.

“Right now, Basilton, it wasn’t a question,” he adds as he turns towards me, arms crossed and all.

“I told Daphne I’m not hungry.”

“I don’t care what you say you are or aren’t. _Sit down._ ”

I don’t have it in me to put up a fight, so I obey.

My father loses some of his confidence when he sees my face. I must look a proper mess, with all the crying I’ve done in addition to the fact that I haven’t been able to force myself in the shower in days, which, I’m well aware, is disgusting, but I can’t care enough to find the strength to walk the whole distance to the bathroom, _undress, wash and dry myself_ , and _put new clothes on._ It’s too much effort. It seems impossible. 

“Good,” he says, picking the tray up and carefully laying it on my lap. “Now eat.”

**…**

**Malcolm**

He frowns and immediately grabs the black cup Daphne put her blood in. 

“What the fuck is that?” he asks, shooting me a panicked and confused glance.

**…**

**Baz**

I know what it is. Of course I do. I know the smell of all of their blood. Dad’s smells like black coffee. Fiona’s reminds me of the smell of rubbing alcohol, or just _very_ strong alcohol.

And Daphne’s…

Daphne’s smell like the kitchen when you’re baking a cake. A warm, but a little bit sweet scent.

The scent that’s filling my nostrils as I look down at the dark liquid on the cup. 

I feel mildly sick.

My father clears his throat. “Well…”

“No, I know what it is. But _why?_ ”

If my parents have been adamant on one thing, it’s that I should never _ever_ drink human blood. I guess that’s the limit of what they can take. That they can’t keep pretending I’m anything other than a monster they’re repulsed by if I drink human blood.

So why the fuck would Daphne pour her fucking blood in a fucking cup and bring it with my fucking dinner. 

“She noticed you haven’t been to the woods in a while. She wanted you to be fed properly,” my father answers, looking fixedly at the cup. 

My fingers are trembling around it.

Daphne _made herself bleed_ so that I’d be fed. 

She really doesn’t want me to waste away, does she?

That’s stupid, honestly. My family would be rid of a great fucking problem if they just _let me_ waste away.

“Just… drink it,” my father says, waving his hand at the cup, wincing. “She already let her blood flow anyway, don’t let it go to waste. She’s right, you need it.”

My only comfort is that my father seems as disgusted by the situation as I am.

I’m not really disgusted, though. Because Daphne’s blood smells _amazing_ and I’m so _thirsty_ , all I want is to bring the cup to my lips.

“You should get out, you don’t want to see me drink your wife’s blood,” I tell my father, with a lisp.

“I’m not leaving this room until this tray is empty.”

I cock an eyebrow at him, but he doesn’t look like he’s going to change his mind.

“Turn around, at least,” I tell him, sighing.

I can’t pretend I don’t want nor need the blood, and I think it would kill me to refuse it. It smells too appetizing. I want to feel it on my tongue.

My cheeks feel so full. 

Thankfully, my father does turn around.

I’m swallowing the blood greedily the moment I’m sure he isn’t looking.

My eyes almost roll back.

Fuck, it’s amazing.

The thickness of it, the taste of it, like all of my favourite foods, the warmth of it…

It’s so fucking good. I had forgotten how fantastic human blood is like to drink.

I lick the brim of the cup, to waste as little blood as possible, and in an unusual moment of clarity, I picture Daphne with a blade, probably a knife, cutting herself and letting her blood fall on that same cup.

And I disgust myself.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING :  
> Self-harm
> 
> About the time stamps, they’re all from the break up. So in the previous chapter, it had been three weeks since they broke up. In this one, it has been seven weeks since they broke up, not seven weeks since the previous chapter
> 
> “You were the better part  
> Of every bit of beating heart that I had  
> Whatever I had  
> I finally sat alone  
> Pitch black flesh and bone  
> Couldn't believe that you were gone”  
> — You’re Somebody Else, Flora Cash

_Seven weeks_

**Simon**

_Delete his number!!!!!!_

That’s the note Penny decided to leave me today before going out to buy groceries. She has been leaving those notes for days, in truth, but there are more of those today than there were before. There’s one on my bedside table, one on the fridge, one on the door to the bathroom, and one on the screen of the television, the words underlined multiple times and “Delete” circled.

I think she’s trying to send me a subliminal message.

She even texted it to me.

I’m not going to delete his number. 

There would be no point, I know it by heart. I could bloody recite it in my sleep.

I don’t even know why she thinks it’s her business whether or not it’s still saved on my phone. What harm can it do? It’s not like I’m going to call him.

Not that I haven’t thought about it.

My thumb has hovered over my phone screen many times since he’s been gone, but I never found the courage to press ‘call’. He probably wouldn’t pick up, and I’m not sure I’d be able to handle hearing his voice.

It’s just very tempting, you know.

I meant it when I told him we could be friends. I’d like to still have him in my life. 

But he doesn’t want that, and _I’m_ the one who broke up so I guess I have to respect that. 

Besides, I did do something to Baz’s number. Well not to his number, to his contact on my phone, but still. I took off the heart next to his name. Penny should be proud. It was much more difficult to do than it may seem. 

I collect all of the sticky notes and throw them in the bin.

Well, all except one.

The one on the front door, that troubles me much more than those about his number. 

_3:15 pm_

_therapist appointment_

_link in your mailbox_

_DON’T FORGET_

**…**

**Baz**

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay a little longer?” 

There’s a worried line on Daphne’s forehead as she rocks Elias in her arms.

I wrap my scarf around my neck. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“I just think it could be beneficial for you. It’s not good to be completely alone.”

“I’m fine with being alone.”

It’s all I fucking want. To spend a full day without any of my family members coming to my room to try to _take care_ of me. It was only Daphne at first but even my father has started doing that, in recent weeks. 

He didn’t take care of me when I _actually_ needed it but he does it now that I want to be left alone? That’s ridiculous.

“It would also be more practical to stay here,” Daphne continues arguing. “You don’t have any chores to do. No food to cook, no clothes to wash, no room to clean.”

I know that she doesn’t want me gone. She’s worried that I’m not going to be taking care of myself if I’m alone -which, to be honest, is a fair assumption- or that I might even… fall back into bad habits.

Not that she knows about the bad habits.

She knows there was a time when I used to drink my pain away because my father has a nasty habit of checking what I do with my credit card, and because Niall couldn’t keep his mouth shut when Daphne asked what I did with all this alcohol, but she doesn’t know about… the other thing.

To Daphne’s knowledge, the only time a blade cut my skin open was when she found me in the bathroom. She doesn’t know about the hundreds of times it happened after that. It’s lucky really, she’d probably be even more worried now if she did. 

“I’m fine with doing chores too. It’ll keep me and my mind busy,” I lie.

I’ve been _trying_ to act like a normal human being for the past few days, since my father told me he had completed all the procedures to buy me a flat, so that my parents would believe I’m doing better, get off my back, and let me _leave_. Getting out of bed, changing clothes, showering, eating, hunting, it’s a constant effort, but if it would allow me to leave the manor, I was willing to handle it. 

“Baz…” Daphne starts again, and I feel my mild irritation turn into anger.

Won’t she fucking let it go. Let _me_ go.

What good can it do to her, having me here, anyway? All I do is darken everyone’s mood. If I’m not here, they can go back to being a perfect family. Daphne can go back to taking care of _her_ kids.

“Christmas is soon,” she continues. “You’re going to be home for Christmas, right? So you could stay until then, and then you could leave, wouldn’t that be better?”

She looks at me with hopeful eyes. I try not to let them affect me. 

I _know_ that she doesn’t mean anything bad but she’s so fucking irritating. I’m _19._ I’m not a child anymore.

“I don’t want to stay, Daphne,” I say with a cold voice as I lean down to grab the handle of my suitcase. 

She sighs and steps closer. She reaches out with her free hand and I push her away.

“Baz, please, just stay a little longer. I only want to take care of you. You need help, honey,” she insists, the sadness in her voice spreading to her face.

I bore my eyes into hers, looking at her with the kind of bored faces I used to give Snow while he was screaming, his face flushed in anger.

“I don’t _want_ nor _need_ your help, Daphne. I want you to leave me alone. You’re not my mother, and I’m tired of you acting like you were,” I say, venom dripping from my voice. 

Being cruel to people. That usually works to keep them away. 

Why would you want to be good to someone who isn’t good to you?

Hurt writes itself all over her features, and when she talks again, it’s with a defeated voice. “Fine. I will stay in my place from now on, then. Goodbye, Baz.”

I hate myself.

**…**

**Simon**

The therapist was Penny’s idea, of course. I think spending money to tell someone my problems is bullshit, but Penny thinks it’s important. I have a lot of trauma to unpack, according to her.

I mean, I guess that growing up without love, having the weight of the World of Mages on your shoulders from a young age and being used by someone you look up to for years before finding out that this person was your parent all alone but didn’t see you as anything more than an experiment, a _failed_ experiment, is a little bit traumatizing. 

It took her some convincing, and even some threatening, but eventually, I let her book me an appointment with a magickal therapist. I can’t quite tell a Normal about my magic school and my evil mage father and the hollowness that losing my magic has caused me to feel. 

But the thing is shrinks aren’t really a thing in the World of Mages. Not in the UK, at least. That’s what Penny said. She also said that mages completely overlook mental health, something that is changing with the youngest generation having access to the internet and therefore, the Normal world, but it’s still not something that’s done. 

Mages seem to think magic fixes everything. 

When she explained all of that she then went on a rant about how this is directly linked to the rate of suicide amongst mages but that no one wants to admit it, and I stopped listening. I don’t want to hear about _suicide_. When I hear the word, I think of Baz, crying in his bed, explaining to me that he tried to take his own life, and would probably have succeeded if not for Daphne’s intervention.

I’m sure Baz could use a therapist too. Probably more than me. 

I have to _stop_ thinking about Baz. My appointment is in fifteen minutes, I can’t start crying now.

Instead, I check for what is probably the tenth time the email with the time of my appointment and the link to the thing where I can see the therapist. She’s American, so I can’t really go to her consulting room, you know? So it’s all happening online. 

It makes me a bit uncomfortable because I wish I could actually _be_ with my therapist and see her in real life, it’s strange talking to a laptop, but at the same time, it makes it less stressful. I’m home. It’s a place I know, it’s safe. 

I look at the time 3:02. Thirteen more minutes to go. I’ve already been sitting here for a quarter of an hour. I was afraid something would go wrong with the laptop and I’d be late to the appointment so I prepared everything in advance.

Penny says that’s something I should talk to the therapist about as well. About that and a lot of things that I do that Penny says indicate I may have some sort of anxiety disorder. I think she’s exaggerating.

I look at the time again. 3:04. Fuck, why won’t time pass faster.

I stand from the couch precipitately and go get a glass of water from the tap. I swallow it fast, easing the dryness of my throat, and then I leave the glass on the sink. 

I look at the time. 3:07. It’s almost time, I have to go back to the living room.

Once I’m sitting again, I read the email one last time, just to be sure, and practice saying the therapist’s name, just in case. I think I could just call her doctor or something if I want to address her but you never know.

Her name ends with “ez” and it sounds hispanic. I have a very vivid memory of Micah, when he was here in England, making fun of me because I couldn’t pronounce his last name, which was hispanic and also ended in “ez” well. He tried to teach me but I can barely pronounce english words properly, so it was still a disaster. 

My leg starts bouncing on its own accord. 

3:12.

Oh God, I wish Penny was here. She purposely left the flat because she wanted me to be free to talk to the therapist without risking her overhearing it, which I’m grateful for, but I also wish she’d been with me as the appointment started. Her presence would have been comforting.

The time goes from 3:13 to 3:14 and I stop fidgeting with my sleeve to click on the link. 

My heart beats a bit too fast until a few seconds later, when a face appears on my screen.

**…**

**Baz**

The flat is nice.

It came with the furniture, which is a good thing because I wouldn’t have had it in me to choose and buy furniture right now, but I think I will redecorate in the future. It’s not really to my taste. It’s a bit cold and impersonal, like all those very expensive, very modern flats often are, but it’s not too bad. 

As I wander around the flat, I think that it must have cost a fortune. My father didn’t tell me, because it’s not the kind of thing that matters in a family like mine, but I’m certain there were enough 0s on the price to make Snow faint.

… Took me long enough.

I sigh as I go back to the entrance to collect my suitcase, that I abandoned here before I went and explored my new place. I wish I could stop thinking about him for five fucking minutes.

But I never could. Simon Snow has always been the one thing on my mind. 

I drag my body and my suitcase to the room that appealed to me most, put my suitcase down on the floor, and only open it to take my favourite pair of pyjama bottoms and a tee shirt -which just _happens_ to have once belonged to Simon. It’s purely a coincidence. 

I undress as quickly as I can, relief washing over me as I rid myself of my constricting clothes. Were jeans and button downs always this uncomfortable to wear or have I grown too used to not wearing proper clothes?

I slip inside my pyjamas, and then, under the covers of the bed. They’re heavy, but they’re cold, and I know that they will remain that way unless I cast a **You’re getting warmer** on them, because of my absence of body heat. 

That’s what I do.

Once the spell takes effect, I wrap the covers around myself, even over my head, and I close my eyes. 

I don’t really expect to fall asleep, I haven’t been able to without a spell or literally falling from exhaustion since… since the break up. 

Soon enough, I feel the now familiar weight on my chest, crushing me, knocking the wind out of me, and the tingling in my eyes and throat. 

**…**

**Simon**

I texted Penny the moment my session was over so that she knew she could come back.

I wait for her by making us tea, still feeling the relief I’ve felt since I closed my laptop.

The appointment with Vanessa -she insists I should call her by her first name- wasn’t half as awful as I expected, since all I had to do this time was answer questions about my life for her to become familiar with my situation and past. I liked the fact that she _asked_ things. I didn’t have to think of what to say, just let myself be guided by her. It released a lot of my tension. The answers were a bit uncomfortable to give, of course, it’s never easy talking about the care homes, or the Mage, or the Humdrum, but it’s nothing insurmountable. 

It hurt talking about the fact that I _used to be_ a mage, though. 

I hear the entrance door open, and keys being thrown on the little bowl on the little table by the door. It makes me smile. Penny’s home. _Finally._

It’s really home now, for both of us. She officially moved in. It’s great. I like seeing Penny’s stuff around.

It fills the empty stops left by the absence of Baz’s stuff. 

Well, except in my room. Penny obviously didn’t go and put her clothes in the wardrobe that’s in my room. But in all the other rooms, there’s a little bit of Penny where there used to be a little bit of Baz.

Though there’s still a little bit of Baz in the flat. He took most, but not all of his things before storming out, on the day we broke up. 

Penny says I should put his stuff in a cardboard somewhere but I don’t want to and she won’t force me, so they stay where they are.

“How was your appointment?” Penny asks the moment she walks in the kitchen.

I can barely hear her over the sounds the kettle makes -that thing is so damn noisy. I turn around, giving her a smile, before turning back. “It was okay.” 

I stop the kettle and start pouring hot water in two cups, paying attention not to burn myself -my fingers have ended up under the boiling flow an embarrassing amount of times. 

“Details, Simon, I want details,” Penny says, a smile in her voice as she pulls a chair and sits on it.

I serve her her tea, and sit next to her.

“There’s not much to say,” I say, shrugging. “She was nice and didn’t make me feel uncomfortable, but it was only the first time we had an appointment so I guess I’ll have to see how things evolve with time, you know?”

Penny nods. “Yes, you’re right. I hope it’ll help.”

“I’m still not sure _how_ she could help.”

She looks at me over her glasses. She looks like one of my scary primary school teachers like that. 

“As you’ve just said, it was only the first time. Once you’ll tell her more about you and your feelings, I’m sure she’ll find things to tell you to help you. It’s her job after all.”

I shrug again. “Yeah, I guess.”

Penny takes a sip of her tea. She can drink it when it’s super hot, I don’t understand that. If I tried drinking now, I’d just end up burning my tongue.

“Say, Simon,” she starts as she puts her cup down. “Did you tell her about Baz?”

I tense when she says his name. I try to _think_ about him as little as possible. _Talking_ about him is even more difficult. 

“There’s nothing to say about Baz.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “I think there are plenty of things to say about Baz.”

“No, there isn’t.”

She opens her mouth but I glare at her. “ _No there isn’t_ ,” I repeat.

She sighs, but thankfully, drops it.

**…**

**Baz**

There’s one amazing thing about my flat, and it’s that there’s a shop on the same street, and the alcohol they sell isn’t that expensive, on top of that.

There’s another amazing thing about my flat, and it’s that I live alone in it so I can bring -and drink- as many bottles as I want. 

**…**

**Simon**

My phone buzzes. Who the fuck is sending me messages at… -I get a glimpse of the alarm clock- 2 am?!

My heart misses a beat when I see the name on the screen, and the air gets stuck in my throat when I read the message.

Baz, 2:21 am : _i miss you_

I’m still unable to breathe when I receive two other messages.

Baz, 2:22 am : _i love yiu so mucg it hurts_

Baz, 2:22 am : _i need yoy herw_

I don’t think. I just turn my phone off with trembling hands, putting it inside the drawer of my nightstand not to see it anymore.

**…**

**Baz**

I only realize the full extent of what I’ve done when I finish the bottle.

I texted Snow.

I bloody fucking texted Snow. It’s the _one thing_ I’ve managed not to do over the last weeks despite how much I wanted it, and now I did it.

And I don’t think I got an answer.

I don’t think I _will_ get an answer.

But just in case…

I unlock my phone.

Read.

I sent the messages over half an hour ago, and all I got is _read_. 

He left me on fucking read.

It’s so much worse than I thought. I thought he had blocked me or something. But _no._ Instead he read my messages and _decided_ not to answer.

I throw my phone across the room. 

And the bottle, for good measure, because it’s just as responsible for this mess as the phone.

It shatters into pieces as it hits the wall, glass scattering over the floor. 

**…**

**Simon**

Baz misses me.

Baz needs me.

Baz is probably drunk -I don’t see any other reason why he’d type like this- and he _needs_ me.

Maybe I should…

No.

He’s _drunk_. 

People text their exes all the time when they’re drunk. That doesn’t mean he _actually_ wants to see my face. Or hear my voice. Or read my text. Or want anything to do with me.

**...**

**Baz**

I pick up the glass shards. It’s better than leaving them on the floor and I’m too weak for magic right now.

I’m not sure I’m really controlling my hand when it closes around the pieces of glass in my palm.

A sharp pain, and then red.

Red spilling between my fingers.

Red flowing down my wrist.

Red.

I open my palm.

It’s red, it’s so red. Even the transparent glass is turning red. 

**…**

**Simon**

I’m not able to fall back asleep that night.

**…**

**Baz**

I only realize that I’ve rushed to the bathroom and undone the razor when I feel the cold blade between my thumb and index finger.

Cold, sharp steel.

And red.

Red in my hand, red in droplets on the floor, red on the sink. 

And pain.

Pain in my head, pain in my palm. 

But not enough red. 

And too much pain in my head.

Cold, sharp steel in my hand.

_Simon wouldn’t want you to do that._

But Simon isn’t there.

And Simon doesn’t _care_.

Cold, sharp steel against my wrist.

Pain.

Red.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And I know we weren't perfect  
> But I've never felt this way for no one  
> And I just can't imagine  
> How you could be so okay now that I'm gone”  
> — drivers license, Olivia Rodrigo

_ Eight weeks _

**Baz**

Maybe Daphne was right and I should have stayed until Christmas. I moved out a week ago, properly let myself go during this week, and now…

Now I have to go back home and pretend I’m more than a pile of broken pieces and hurt. 

Go back home and put on a smile, like everything’s alright and I don’t constantly feel like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff and a single breeze could make me fall off.

Go back home with my shirt tightly buttoned at the wrist and act like I wasn’t butchering my arms the night before I drove to Hampshire. 

It’s not going to be fun.

But it’s Christmas. I can make an effort for Christmas, even if the last thing I want right now is to be in a room with all of them.

My parents, who saw me during all those weeks after the break up, trying to help me, and getting nothing in return. 

Dev and Niall, who haven’t seen me since I crashed at their place and got drunk out of my mind while they did a poor job at pretending I wasn’t here.

And…

And Fiona.

Fiona who last saw me in September, when Simon and I were still an us. She only knows we’re  _ not  _ an us anymore because I texted her.  _ ‘Snow broke up with me. I don’t want to talk about it.’  _

It was something short and cold, and I didn’t give explanations. I don’t think Fiona would care much about explanations anyway. 

It’s  _ Fiona.  _ She doesn’t care much about anything.

But the thought of seeing her for the first time after things went down is still terrifying.

Which is why I stand in the doorstep without knocking for at least 5 minutes when I arrive home. Fiona’s car is already parked here, so there will be no escaping her once I walk in the manor. 

Niall and Dev, and Anne’s family are also here already. I’m the last one to arrive. Fiona is going to be proud. 

Eventually, I find  the courage to raise my hand and knock.

The door opens on Mordelia, in a sparkly golden dress. She looks lovely.

“Baz!” she exclaims as she closes the distance between us to hug my legs. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

Right, make me feel terrible before I’ve even stepped inside, thanks Mordy. 

“I wouldn’t miss Christmas,” I answer, patting the top of head.

She looks up at me, grinning, and I feel a tiny bit less awful. 

“What did you buy me?” she asks when she lets go of my legs.

I choke on my breath. Since when does that child know Father Christmas isn’t real?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I answer as I close the door behind me. 

Mordelia starts hopping her way to the ballroom, and I follow her.

“Yes you do. I know Father Christmas doesn’t exist. I’ve seen Mum and Dad wrap our presents, but I promised I wouldn’t tell the babies.”

“Codelia and Ophelia are 4, they’re not babies anymore.”

Mordelia shakes her head. “Yes they are.”

I don’t argue. There’s no point arguing with children, and we reached the ballroom anyway.

I take a deep breath before walking in

**…**

**Simon**

It’s strange, spending Christmas alone.

I’m not so used to it anymore.

But I haven’t talked to Agatha in forever, so there’s no way I could go at the Wellbelove’s.

But Penny’s mum still doesn’t like me much, and I didn’t want to intrude, so I couldn’t go at the Bunce’s.

And well, the Grimms obviously weren’t an option, to my Christmas with them remains a fond memory. It was the first time I  _ truly  _ felt part of the family.

I’ve lost that, now, when I lost Baz.

I miss being with them. All of then. The little ones, but also Daphne and Malcolm. Being at the manor, with all of them… it was  _ really _ like having a family. It was the first time I experienced something like that, and it was overwhelming in the best of ways.

But I understand that this can’t be anymore. I broke up with Baz. I can’t demand that his family still accept me like they did when I was dating him, though Daphne seems to still want to be in contact with me. 

Quite surprisingly, she’s been texting me since the break up. She doesn’t even text to tell me I’m a terrible person for breaking her son’s heart, no, she simply inquires as to how I’m doing. Asks me if I still go jogging in the mornings. If I intend on finding a job, going to uni, or if I’m simply going to take time for myself. She tells me about the kids. She says they miss me, which makes my heart clench. I wish I could see them again, but I think it would be disrespectful to Baz, and it’s not like I have any way to go to Hampshire anyway. I can’t drive, and even if I actually knew how to, I don’t have a car, and neither does Penny. 

So, I guess I won’t see them again. 

Maybe it’s for the better. Baz probably doesn’t want to see me ever again, and it’d hurt too much to visit _his_ family knowing that. Practically my entire relationship with Baz happened at his parents’ place, it’s full of memories of us.

I wonder if it’s hard for him to go back there. If he thinks of me.

**…**

**Baz**

I say hello to everyone absentmindedly, answering ‘Fine’ whenever someone whispers ‘How are you doing’ in my ear and giving my best fake smiles. 

I answer Anne’s questions about what I’m doing with my life -not much- and pretend I don’t notice Fiona’s and Niall’s insistent gazes on me nor Daphne’s worried glances.

But, since my family lives to make my existence 10 times worse than it already is, eventually they don’t let me pretend anymore.

Fiona, who is conveniently sitting in front of me, kicks my leg under the table.

“What happened with your Chosen One?”

An expected question, but one I dreaded greatly.

I haven’t exactly told anyone what happened. I just said Simon broke up. Fiona and Daphne don’t even know I had  _ proposed  _ that night. 

Dev and Niall stop chatting when Fiona asks her question. 

Of course.

So now I have the full attention of three of the people closest and dearest to me, and I have to tell them that my boyfriend left me because my love wasn’t enough. 

“He simply considered that we had to go separate ways,” I answer, keeping my voice as devoid of emotion as possible despite how much broaching the topic makes me want to scream.

“Cut the crap, I want the real reason boyo. Something must have happened for him to break up with you,” Fiona says as she leans in, resting her elbows on the table.

She’s looking at me with scrutinizing eyes, as if she was trying to see through me to find the answer she wants.

I straighten my back and clear my throat.

“A lot of things happened, during all this time we were in a relationship. A lot of _scarring_ things happened, to the both of us, and with time, Snow came to the conclusion that we were not good for each other because our relationship was too rushed and we weren’t helping one another with our issues, but tearing each other down even more by using the other as a distraction. He thought it would help us both to be apart”

I’ve replayed our last conversation -our last  _ fight _ \- so much in my head over the last few weeks, I could probably recite it. Repeat every single word Simon said. Each and every one of those needles he stuck in my heart.

Especially one part of it.

_ “I love you Baz, I really do, but…” _

But isn’t something you should say after I love you, not in a serious way anyway. Not during an argument.

In my perspective, love, especially romantic love, the kind of love Snow and I had, should be unconditional. There are no places for ‘but’s.

I love you.

Full stop.

Nothing more to say, no other words to add after that.

Apparently, that’s not how Snow sees it.

Or maybe he didn’t love me enough.

Or maybe I love him too much.

“And does it help you?” Fiona asks, bringing my attention back on her.

I give her a look that means ‘Isn’t that obvious?’

“I’ve been in love with him for years and he left me because my sole presence in his life was so toxic for him that it prevented him from getting better. Do you think that knowing that  _ helps  _ me in any way?”

She doesn’t answer.

**…**

The rest of the evening isn’t much better, but at least no one else brings Snow up, which is a huge improvement, though I can tell that Niall has a million questions burning his tongue. I think that the only reason he isn’t asking then is because he’s sitting next to me so I could see from up close my eyes becoming a bit too shiny as I spoke to Fiona.

The children have been sent -put- to bed, and we’re all on our way to go to bed too, but before there’s something I have to do.

I feel like a little kid when I knock on the door to my parents’ room. 

“It’s Baz, can I have a word with Daphne.”

Silence.

Footsteps.

And the door opens on Daphne, her hair already down. I can tell the zipper of her dress has been opened, even though the dress still stays rather in place.

“I won’t bother you for too long,” I say, looking down. I can’t look at her. I couldn’t look at her for the entire night. “I just wanted to apologize for what I said when I left the other day. It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t even true. I said it because I wanted to hurt you so that you’d leave me alone, which only makes it worse, I know. I’m sorry. It was cruel, and unnecessary, and I shouldn’t have said it… I… In truth, I actually quite like when you act like you’re my mother,” I admit, feeling blood rush to my face.

I fed this morning. It’s going to show. 

Daphne reaches out and put her hand on my arm. 

“It’s alright. I won’t lie, it hurt me when you said it, but I shouldn’t have pushed you to stay like I did. It’s… hard, sometimes, to accept that you’re an adult now and that you make your own decisions. I wish I could have taken care of you a little longer.”

I know that she doesn’t mean she wishes I’d stayed home for a few more months or years. She means that she wishes she had been in my life earlier than she was. It makes my heart clench.

It’s awful to think, but if my father had remarried sooner, my childhood would have been less sad and lonely. I would have been without a mother figure for a shorter amount of time. 

“So… You’re not mad at me?”

“No, I’m not,” she confirms, a smile in her voice. “Go to bed now honey, you know your sisters will wake you up at dawn.”

**…**

I go to bed, but I don’t sleep.

Instead, because apparently  _ I  _ am the stalker now, I check Snow’s Instagram. 

Well, he hasn’t blocked me or even deleted me from his following list, so  _ technically  _ I’m just checking Instagram, you know. He just  _ happens  _ to have posted things, so I look at them. 

Snow loves posting the most random things on Instagram. It’s adorable. Today, there are four more pictures. The first one shows him holding some snow in his bare hand, close to his face, smiling widely, with as caption “snow ❄️”. It makes me snort. He’s an idiot.

He looks so cheerful in the picture.

He didn’t smile like that, back in October.

It seems like this break up was truly beneficial to him. 

That means I was  _ truly  _ a burden for him. Something in the way of his healing process. Another problem, on an already too long list.

I should have known that I wasn’t good for Snow before he told me. I could never be good for someone like him. I’m too fucked up, too mean, too… too  _ me _ to be good for anyone, especially not him. He’s too good, too kind, too  _ Snow _ . 

The prince doesn’t end up with the monster, in fairy tales.

But it’s good, I suppose. He seems happy, now that I’m not his problem anymore. I want him to be happy. 

I was silly to think  _ I _ could ever be the reason why he was. I suppose I did give him some good moments, though. When he fucked me. That must have been enjoyable. Some of our little romantic moments probably brought him some joy. 

But I also brought him a hell lot of pain.

Even when we were together, I made him cry. Not for the same reasons as before, not because I was throwing insults at him, but I still did. When I told him all the fucked up things about my past. When everything that happened with Roman happened. 

I wonder if he’d be sad if he knew the state I’m in now. If he knew I’d gone back to my old, bad habits. If he knew I have half a dozen empty bottles to carry downstairs to the bin, and as many bottles, full and unopened, in my flat. If he knew I had to go to the shop to buy new razor blades because I didn’t want to have to undo my razor all the time. 

No, he probably wouldn’t be sad. Disgusted, is more likely. He’d think I’m pathetic, because I am. Shedding tears and blood while he’s thriving. Getting drunk to forget about him for a while, while he does it perfectly well sober. Still being miserable about our relationship ending after almost two fucking months, when he’s moved on already. 

I scroll to the next picture before letting myself be overwhelmed by negative thoughts. I have to behave tonight. I promised myself I would

But just for safety, I didn’t take my razor with me.

In the picture, there’s a stray cat -a kitten, really- curled up in a ball next to the front door of Snow’s building. In the caption, he wrote “that little guy has been coming around here for days and Penny isn’t home rn…” 

Did that idiot adopt a stray cat?

I scroll up, and see that same cat, still curled up in a ball, but on Snow’s bed this time. The caption reads “say hi to Ollie everyone!”. Merlin, he did adopt a stray cat. That’s such a Snow thing to do, I shouldn’t even be surprised.

My heart clenches at the sight of the bed, and I’m overwhelmed by memories of Snow drooling on those pillows, of hiding under those covers to cuddle, of being pushed down on that mattress, of gripping those bed sheets. 

I close my eyes and let myself relive them. I don’t often indulge myself with good memories, preferring to torture myself by thinking of all the things that were wrong, but tonight, I want to give myself that.

I picture feather light kisses being scattered all over my face, imitate them with the tip of my fingers, to make this a tiny bit more real. I imagine opening my eyes and seeing this boring, ordinary blue that makes my heart flutter. I see a soft smile and messy hair. I hear “Good morning babe”, whispered in my ear. 

I imagine a kiss on my lips, all bad breath and lazy tongue movements. A weight on my body as he shifts on top of me, not even making the effort to hold himself up. 

Laughter and soft touches over our clothes. 

Pleased sighs and dim light.

Love.

There used to be so much love between us.

**…**

**Simon**

Ollie is not impressed by my frozen pizza. He’s sitting on the kitchen table, close to my plate but not putting his muzzle in it, and I swear I can feel him judging me. 

It’s as if he knew it was Christmas Eve and this isn’t an appropriate meal for Christmas Eve at all.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I say as I bite my pizza. 

It’s full of cheese and it’s super greazy and it’s to die for. 

I eat healthier now, because since my body isn’t a magic furnace, I gain weight more easily, as I’ve noticed all the way back in July, but a pizza from times to times doesn’t hurt. So long as I don’t start eating all sorts of junk food to fill the void inside me, as I did much too often when I lived in Hampshire, it’s fine.

Now when I’m too sad, I go running instead, until my entire body is aching and all I can think about is the prospect of a warm shower and collapsing in bed. It’s honestly a better coping mechanism -I’m not exactly sure what those words mean but Penny has said them a few times. It keeps my mind busy and I can’t afford to start crying because it would make breathing even more difficult so I’d probably die.

My phone lights up with a notification. I’m afraid it’s Penny scolding me about Ollie again. She wasn’t very happy that I took him in, but I just couldn’t resist. I’ve seen him wander around the block for a moment, and he’s so little, it broke my heart to think of him in the cold all the time.

Besides, he’s adorable.

He’s a tiny little kitten, with orange fur. I called him Ollie, short for Oliver, because he reminded me of the cat in that one cartoon that I watched with Baz that apparently is a more kids friendly version of Charles Dickens’s Oliver Twist. When he said that, Baz then went on a rant to tell me everything he knew about Oliver Twist. Nerd. 

I miss Baz’s nerdy rants.

I sigh. I miss a lot of things about Baz. I miss  _ Baz. _

I finally look at my phone. It’s not Penny. 

It’s Niall.

Yes, Baz’s Niall.

He, Dev and I became friends while I was dating Baz, and some time after the break up, Niall texted me. First because he wanted to know  _ why  _ I had broken up, and once I’d explained myself, he just started casually texting me, so I guess we’re still friends. I’m not so sure about Dev, but he seems more like the type to hold grudges than Niall and I  _ did  _ hurt his best friend.

The message is short, and simple.

8:47 pm :  _ He misses you. He told Fiona about the break up and he had tears in his eyes. Are you two going to stop being idiots and make up? _

I don’t answer.

Baz doesn’t want me in his life. He said so. It doesn’t matter what Niall says. Baz said he didn’t want to be friends, I have to respect that. 

**…**

**Baz**

My heart is heavy when I scroll to look at the last picture Snow posted that night.

It’s his cat again, on the bed again, but this time Snow’s in the picture too, wearing a big shirt he likes to sleep in. He’s looking at the cat, who is stretched this time, taking up some place next to Snow.

I can’t help but think that this used to be my side of the bed.

I read the caption and my fingers immediately start typing a comment.

**…**

**Simon**

I’m about to put my phone on the bedside table to sleep when I receive a notification that makes my eyes go wide.

There’s Baz’s Instagram username, and a comment. 

“I think so too.”

It’s under the last picture I posted of Ollie, the one where we’re both in my bed. I remember the caption I wrote ; “Ollie seems to think my bed is too big for one person”.

I click on the notification, but when I get to the post, the comment isn’t here.

**…**

**Baz**

I delete it the moment I realize I have written it.

Merlin, I hope Snow didn’t get or see the notification.

**…**

After a solid half hour spent cursing myself for my stupidity, I unfollow Snow. And block him, to be sure.

If I can’t see his posts, I can’t comment stupid shit on them. He doesn’t need to be exposed to my pathetic pining, it won’t do him any good. It can be like Watford all over again. He can live his life to the fullest, unaware that I’m burning for him.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!!TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!!!  
> SUICIDE ATTEMPT  
> if this is something that might be difficult for you to read, I advice you skip this chapter 
> 
> ———————————
> 
> “How do you get that lonely, how do you hurt that bad  
> To make you make the call, that havin' no life at all  
> Is better than the life that you had  
> How do you feel so empty, you want to let it all go  
> How do you get that lonely, and nobody know  
> Did his girlfriend break up with him, did he buy or steal that gun?  
> Did he lose a fight with drugs or alcohol?  
> Did his Mom and Daddy forget to say I love you son?”  
> — How Do You Get That Lonely, Blaine Larsen
> 
> ———————————
> 
> “ But be real and just jump  
> You dense motherfucker (you're worth more, Achilles)  
> You will not be more  
> Than a rat in the gutter (so much more than a rat)  
> You want my opinion (no one asked your opinion)  
> My opinion you've got  
> You asked for my counsel (no one asked for your thoughts)  
> I gave you my thoughts  
> Be done with this now  
> And jump off the roof”  
> — Achilles Come Down, Gang of Youths

**BEWARE OF THE TRIGGER WARNING**

_4 months_

**Baz**

It’s getting harder. So much fucking harder.

I thought it would get better, with time. I was a fool. _Time_ has never helped me. Niall and Dev threatening to hold me captive in their room forever has. Daphne’s care and my sisters’ laughter has. Simon’s arms around me and his sweet kisses have.

Time only makes it harder, because the more days pass, the more obvious it is that he isn’t going to show up at my door and say he wants me back.

The more days pass, the more disconnected I feel from reality. I haven’t gone outside in days. Hell, I haven’t seen daylight in days.

The more days pass, the quicker the alcohol runs down my throat.

The more days pass, the deeper the cuts get. 

I’m not even sure days are passing.

If not for the date and time changing on my phone screen, I wouldn’t be able to tell time is passing. 

I just… lie there. I feel like I haven’t left my bed in ages. What would be the point anyway? It’s not like I have anything to do. 

Even the things that used to make me excited seem like chores now. 

Before, going to the bookstore was something relaxing and comforting. Now it means having to put on clothes and leave my flat. It means buying a book and having to read it. I haven’t been able to read anything more than tweets and the instructions on the ramen noodle packs I eat when I have the strength to boil water.

Before, hanging out with Dev and Niall was one of my favourite things to do ; I felt alive when I was laughing and heard their laughters joining mine. Now, I’ve blocked both of their numbers because I can’t even see their name on my phone screen without having this uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. I don’t want to talk with them. _Can’t_ talk with them. Can’t talk with anyone. It’s exhausting. I also blocked my parents and Fiona. Anyone who was likely to call or text me, really. 

And then…

Then there’s Oxford.

Before, thinking about going to Oxford in September was thrilling, it was something I looked forward to. I was ecstatic when I was accepted, it was the best day I had had since the break up. Now it feels like a burden. It makes my head spin to imagine myself having to get out of bed every day, shower, put on clothes, go to school, listen to endless lectures, take notes, pass tests. 

Each second, I regret accepting to go there more and more. There’s a possibility to cancel your acceptance, and it’s more and more tempting each second.

A part of me tells me that it’s in 7 months, that I probably won’t feel… whatever it is that I feel now. Another part of me, the part of me that’s more convincing right now, tells me that it’s in only _7 month_. I feel like my break up with Snow is recent, but really, it’s been… 4 months, I think. Time flies. 7 months from now is tomorrow. 

I feel this familiar nausea that has taken me every time I thought about Oxford in the last couple of days seize me. 

I won’t be able to do it. I’ll never be able to do it.

I don’t want to do it.

I just… 

There’s nothing I want anymore.

Except for it to _stop._

**…**

**Daphne**

I jump when the door to Elias’s room opens. I crane my neck until my eyes fall on Malcolm.

“I’m trying to change your son here, Malcolm,” I tell him as I turn back to Elias, who’s currently busy putting his big toe in his mouth.

“There’s something wrong with Baz.”

His voice is tense. 

I start dressing Elias up as quickly as I can without hurting him as I answer “What do you mean? Did something happen?”

We haven’t heard anything from Baz since the day he called us to tell us he was accepted at Oxford. The few messages I’ve sent him since then have been left unanswered, but that’s not so unusual for Baz. He has these moments when he simply doesn’t want to answer, and trying to reach out to him again and again and again only makes things worse. 

“He texted me,” Malcolm answers. It’s a bit surprising to me ; Baz almost never texts or calls his father, and it’s always for important things.

I carry Elias up from the baby changing table and hold him close. “What did he say?”

I turn around, my nose pressed on top of my son’s head to smell that delicate odour babies have, and the look on Malcolm’s face makes me freeze in place. 

He looks worried. And scared.

“He told me he doesn’t want to go to Oxford anymore and that he cancelled.”

My eyes go wide and I have a presentiment that makes my stomach drop. 

“Why would he do that? He’s been going on and on and about how excited he was to go there for years.”

He was so impatient to follow his mother’s steps and study there. The only reason he wasn’t sad about not going this year is because he thought he would get to spend it with Simon.

“That’s why I think there’s something wrong, Daphne,” Malcolm says, and I can tell he’s doing his best to keep his voice down. “We barely hear from him anymore, and now this?” There’s dread in his voice before it turns angrier. No, not angry. Frustrated. “ It can’t be good. I… Merlin, why did we let him go to London!”

“We couldn’t really stop him,” I say with a sigh. 

“Well, we should have! If he was here, we could at least know what the fuck he’s doing, or at least check up on him from times to times,” Malcolm says, fear dripping from his voice as he runs his hand through his hair. 

I’ve rarely seen him this nervous except in urgent situations. It doesn’t help my own worry in the slightest.

I hold Elias a bit tighter. He’s unusually calm, as if he noticed the state of tension his parents were in. 

“Maybe… Maybe Fiona could visit him?” I suggest, because that’s the first option that comes to my mind. “She doesn’t live that far away from his place, she could get there quickly. Just to make sure everything is okay for him.”

I _doubt_ everything is okay for him, but admitting so out loud would make it more real.

Flashes of a bloodied bath water and arms cut open flash before my eyes.

I feel sick and try to chase that thought.

Baz wouldn’t… not again.

Or would he?

**…**

**Fiona**

“Malcolm, I don’t have time for whatever you have to say.”

He’s called me five times in a row, but I have better things to do on a Saturday afternoon than taking a call from my ex brother-in-law, so I didn’t pick up. 

I did on his sixth try, though. 

“I’m worried about Basil,” he blurts out, probably in fear that I was going to hang up on him.

I would have, if he hadn’t said something that made me shiver.

For _Malcolm_ to be worried about his son, something serious must have happened. Merlin, what has this fucking kid done this time. He’ll kill me someday, I swear.

And then people why I didn’t want kids of my own. It’s too fucking nerve-racking. 

“Why?” I ask, my fingers tapping my knee nervously. 

“He hasn’t contacted us in days and a few minutes ago, out of the blue, he texted me to say he wouldn’t go to Oxford. Do you think you could go check up on him, please?”

Please? He must _really_ be worried.

I’m up on my feet the moment he’s done speaking. Baz is exactly like his mother. Nothing would have kept him from going to that bloody school -except for a certain pair of blue eyes. 

“I’m on my way.”

I hang up before he can answer anything, slipping my phone in my back pocket and grabbing the keys to my car.

**…**

Merlin must be on my side because I can find a spot to park relatively close to Baz’s building.

I get out of my car the moment the engine turns off, and I start walking towards the building quickly. I make sure my wand is here, tucked in my waistband, when I get to the entrance door. If he doesn’t answer, I’ll have to use magic, the Normals around be damned. 

I ring the intercom, then wait. 

And wait.

And wait.

And _wait_.

Bloody hell.

I take my wand out, and whisper a spell to open the door, praying he isn’t doing something stupid.

**…**

**Baz**

_Go on you coward._

_Don’t do it._

_What more is there for you here anyway?_

_Your family will be sad._

_You’d stop hurting if you’d just do it._

_They’ll be hurting instead._

_You’ll be alone your whole life._

_Imagine how heartbroken they would be._

_They’d move on, that’s what normal fucking people do._

_Things will get better._

_That’s bullshit and you know it. When have things ever gotten better?_

_It’s not a solution._

_Can’t you see? It would be so easy. So quick._

_Just a few cuts and you’d be gone for good._

_You’d rid your family of the burden that you are._

_Because that’s what you are, you know that, right?_

_Nothing more than a burden. A problem._

_They won’t miss you too long._

_Maybe they’ll be a bit sad at first, but it won’t last._

_They’ll be okay, and you’ll stop not being okay._

_Just do it._

_Just do it._

_Just_ **_do it._ **

Cold, sharp steel, sliding all the way from my wrist to my elbow.

**…**

**Fiona**

When I get to his floor, I take my wand out one more time, after making sure none of his neighbours are around. 

I don’t wait as long as I did downstairs, and simply spell the door open. Whatever he’s playing at, I’m not going to waste time waiting for him to open the door himself when he obviously won’t.

The flat is completely dark. The blinds are closed, and no lights are turned on.

Fuck, isn’t he home? He is the most indoorsy person I know, he _should_ be home.

And even if he wasn’t, why wouldn’t the blinds be open in the middle of the afternoon?

I come inside, kicking the door close, and turn on the lights to find my way to the other rooms. There’s a corridor on the left, that must lead to a bedroom or a bathroom. Maybe even both. I never went anywhere but in the living room and kitchen, the few times I visited Baz here and he didn’t give me a tour. 

I rush to that corridor and immediately notice that there is some light filtering from under a door at the end of it. My heart beats faster.

He’s here, he must be here. But if he’s here why didn’t he answer when I rang?

The sight I’m subjected to when I open the door turns my stomach and makes a scream escape my mouth.

**…**

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

I can’t lose you too.

I _can’t._

**…**

I act completely on auto-pilot, and later, I’ll have forgotten everything that happened between the moment I saw him and the moment Malcolm and Daphne arrived. 

I’ll have forgotten sinking to my knees in the puddle around him, blood soaking my jeans and the hard impact with the white tiles bruising my skin. 

I’ll have forgotten moving him to rest his head on my lap, calling his name.

I’ll have forgotten checking his pulse, and realizing with horror that it’s close to nothing, even slower than it usually is because of his condition.

I’ll have forgotten the tears that ran down my cheeks as I pointed my wand at him with trembling hands.

I’ll have forgotten all the breaths I had to take to be able to cast spells without fucking it up.

I’ll have forgotten the pounding of my heart as the wounds closed and I couldn’t be sure if I had arrived in time, if he’d make it out alive.

I’ll have forgotten calling his father, while I was still a sobbing and trembling mess, and asking him to come here as quickly as he fucking could. 

I’ll have forgotten holding him tightly against me, praying he’ll be okay.

**…**

**Daphne**

Distantly, I hear Malcolm talking to Fiona, trying to calm her down, but I can’t focus on that. I can’t focus on anything else than the sight in front of me, blurry because of the tears filling my eyes.

He would do it again.

He _did_ it again.

He is so much paler than he was back then.

His scars are visible, those I healed weren’t. He must have cut deeper.

And if it was only them…

His arms are covered in cuts, that even his superior healing abilities couldn’t close without leaving a scar.

How did I not notice? How did I not _know_?

I _knew_ he wasn’t at his best, recently, that much was obvious, but he seemed more okay than he was that summer… 

I should have known it was pretend. I should have asked more questions, should have tried harder to understand just how hurt he was, should have tried to make him stay home a little more, even if it caused him to hate me.

I could bear his anger and hatred so long as he was alive and breathing.

I take one of his hands in mine carefully, resting my head on our joined hands. “Please, Baz. Please, wake up.”

**…**

**Malcolm**

I feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest.

Baz tried to kill himself.

My son was suffering so much that he… that he tried to take his own life. 

And I didn’t know. 

And I didn’t see.

No, it’s not that I didn’t see it. It’s that I ignored the signs.

I should have worried before. I should have gone up to his flat when he stopped taking calls. I should have been here for him. I should have shown him that he’s cared for, that he matters.

Maybe he didn’t feel loved enough.

Daphne tells him she loves him, sometimes. I never do. I assume he doesn't have to be told it. My parents never said I love you, and I still knew they cared. I thought it was the same thing for Baz, that he knew.

 **…**

It takes a long time to get Fiona to stop trembling.

I’m surprised that she had such a violent reaction ; she had kept her cool, all those years ago, when we found Baz seemingly dead on the floor, in a small puddle of blood caused by the marks on his neck, but this time…

This time it really affected her.

I spell her to sleep once she’s calm enough for the spell not to cause her trouble, and carry her to the first room I can find. She deserves the rest. 

She isn’t my favourite person, far from it, but she was there when she was needed, and I would never in a million years want to witness what she must have witnessed when she found Baz with his arms cut open.

Just the thought of it makes me sick.

I can’t go to his room, I can’t see him like that, so I stay with Fiona. He’s with Daphne, anyway. He’s in good hands. _She_ knows how to be here for him.

**…**

**Baz**

I open my eyes and disappointment and sadness overwhelm me.

It didn’t work.

It didn’t fucking work.

Fuck not dying like a vampire, I should have fucking gone with fire. 

I’m about to start wallowing in self pity -something I excel at- and scourge myself for not even being able to do something as simple as killing myself, when I hear a gasp.

“Thank Merlin,” Daphne’s voice says. 

Oh, fuck me.

Tears spring to my eyes. Daphne isn’t supposed to be here. She isn’t supposed to see me like this. She already did, back when I first tried to end it all, the last thing I wanted was for her to go through that again. 

“Baz,” she says, brushing my hair off my face messily, probably just touching me for the sake of feeling that I’m really here. “Thank magic, Baz, you’re awake.”

The words would make me chuckle if I had it in me to chuckle.

_You’re awake._

As if I just woke up from a nap, not a suicide attempt.

“I wish I wasn’t,” I whisper under my breath, the words escaping my mouth before I can think about them or about _stopping_ them.

I regret them instantly, of course, even when I feel Daphne bends down to put her arms around my shoulders, hugging me as best as I can in this awkward position, with me lying down and her sitting.

She smells of her perfume and of the warm scent of her blood. It’s familiar, but I can’t say it’s comforting. Nothing would be _comforting_ right now, except maybe… _release._

“Baz, Merlin Baz,” Daphne continues saying. 

She repeats my name again and again, like a prayer, her cheek wet against my neck.

It causes my own tears to start streaming down my face.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice wet. My bottom lip is trembling. “I wanted to make the pain stop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this chapter wad bad,,, it was,,, um,,, difficult to write


	5. Chapter Five

**Baz**

They drive me back to Hampshire.

It was obvious that they would, really. I don’t know what to think about it. I don’t _want_ to be at the manor, especially after what I just did. They’re never going to get off my back.

They’ve already started taking measures.

They’ve taken away every sharp object I could possibly have in my room, as well as the painkillers in my nightstand, probably to prevent me from swallowing the entire box at once -a smart move. They’ve unscrewed the handle to my bathroom door so that I can’t lock myself in there and I’m pretty sure I’m one mistake away from having my wand taken away too.

I don’t think I’d even be mad if they took my wand. I don’t feel like doing magic anymore. I probably don’t have the strength to do magic anymore. You have to have a somewhat clear mind and have more or less energy to cast a spell properly. I have none of those. 

They’ve been coming and going constantly since we got here yesterday and it’s starting to be irritating. Instead of coming every five minutes, Daphne could just _stay_ , I know she wants to, and my father can look after the kids while she’s here. But not.

She opens the door, walks up to me, asks me if I need anything -and is met with refusal- kisses my forehead or squeezes my hand, tells me she loves me, and leaves. Sometimes she tries to mention the words “therapist” or “help” and I turn away from her to make her get the hint. Childish, I know.

And so she does this multiple times an hour. 

My father comes here too, sometimes. He sits at the end of my bed, and looks at me with this sad look on his face that makes my heart clench. He asks if I need anything. Just like when Daphne asks, I say no. He leaves. 

Their footsteps on the corridor and worried questions are the only thing I’ve heard since I woke up. They must have forbidden the girls from coming to my room, because otherwise I know that Mordelia would have snuck in my bed a few times already. They probably don’t want their children to see how miserable I look.

In truth, I haven’t looked at myself in a mirror in forever so I’m not sure what I look like, but I know that I haven’t been feeding, eating, or sleeping much in a long time so my face must be an absolute disaster to look at. I can picture it. My cheeks are even more hollow than usual. The dark circles under my eyes are a stark contrast with my too pale, too grey skin. My eyes are bloodshot because all I do is cry. 

It’s definitely good for my sisters not to see that.

I hear footsteps in the corridor again, but they’re different. It’s not Daphne’s light gait nor my father’s long steps. And there are two different walks.

Dev and Niall.

Fuck, my parents told them?

I mean, now that I think about it, it’s obvious that they’d tell Dev and Niall, but I didn’t consider my friends would care enough to visit. They have their life, now. They must have better things to do on a Sunday than come and see me.

They knock on the door.

“Come in,” I answer flatly, readying myself for eyes full of sadness and pity, for _‘Why didn’t you say anything’_ , for not discreet at all glances at my forearms.

The door opens, and instead of walking in like they were on their way to a funeral like I thought they would, like my parents do, Dev and Niall strut in, both holding a grocery bag. They discard those bags at the foot of my bed, saying “Hello” at the same time.

“Hello?” I say, hesitation in my voice as I look at their bags. What the hell are they doing with that.

“We brought you stuff,” Dev days, completely unhelpfully. He dives his hand into the bag, and throws out three bags of crisps. Salt and vinegar, by the look of it. “Those disgusting crisps you like for some reason,” he explains, before grabbing something else. Multiple bars of chocolate, all different. “Chocolate. Black, as you like, but also those disgustingly sweet bars with stuffing ‘cause you like disgustingly sweet stuff.” Packs of sweets. “To make your fangs have cavities. Can your fangs have cavities?” he asks, seemingly very seriously, looking up at me. I roll my eyes and he smiles before continuing to throw things out of the bag. “Bananas and apples because we had to show Daphne we weren’t only bringing junk food in case she asked.”

I snort at that. They’re idiots. 

Dev throws his now empty bag on the floor and then climbs on my bed, avoiding all the food he threw on it, and lies down next to me, on my left side. I move my arm out of the way and cross both of them on my chest, looking at Niall curiously. He’s still standing at the end of my bed, in front of his grocery bag. 

His eyes flicker to my arms when I move them, but quickly go back up. 

“Your turn babe?” Dev says, winking at Niall.

They’re ridiculous.

“We haven’t only brought food,” Niall announces solemnly as he reaches inside his bag. He takes out a bunch of DVDs, that must be his because Dev doesn’t care enough about movies to buy DVDs. He presents all of them to me. “Titanic, that’ll keep you busy, that movie is much too long. I considered giving you Avatar instead but Leonardo DiCaprio being in Titanic really carried weight in my final choice, I hope you appreciate it.”

“I do,” I tell him with a weak smile.

The smile he gives me back is wide and bright. 

“Moving on. The Harry Potter movies, to give yourself a headache over how terrible and inaccurate the magic is,” he continues as he dumps them all on the bed. “Mulan because it’s the best Disney movie and I won’t take criticism on that and no I’m not only saying that because Reflection makes me cry, fuck off Basilton. Then Tangled because it’s also a very good Disney movie and Flynn Rider is hot, and Frozen because who doesn’t want to have Let It Go stuck in their head all the time. Oh, and Brave because I saw it as I was picking up the others and I thought why not.”

Well, that’s a lot of movies. But I guess that if my parents intend on keeping me in my room until I’m a functioning human being again, I could use all of those movies. 

Niall puts them back inside the bag, as well as the snacks Dev carried once he picks up the other back from the floor. Then, he takes both bags and puts then down next to my bed before joining Dev and I on it, on my right side. 

My bed is large enough for three, but they decide to snuggle with me. I let them. I don’t know what I’d feel if someone called me and said one of them had tried killing himself, but I know it would be heartbreaking.

This crushing guilt I feel whenever I meet my parents’ eyes seizes me again. I was so selfish. I hurt them all. Even _Fiona._ She’s the one who found me, apparently, and it was really hard on her. Father had spelled her asleep when we were still at my place. 

Dev is close enough that the strong cologne he uses fills my nostrils even more than the smell of his blood, while Niall is completely pressed against my side. He’s moved one of my arms, because apparently it bothered him, to rest his head on my shoulder. I can feel he hesitates to put his own arm around me. Niall is quite a cuddly person, and he knows that I don’t mind hugs at all, so he hugs me rather often, especially when one of us -me, it’s _always_ me- isn’t okay. 

So, since he won’t do it, I take his arm with my free hand and put it around my middle. 

“Hey,” Dev says teasingly. “Don’t cuddle my fiancé like that.”

Niall laughs softly. 

Playing along, I move my head just enough to kiss his cheek. I’d have kissed his lips, it wouldn’t be the first time -the amount of drunk kisses Niall and I exchanged is actually insane, and there was also that one time… _whatever_ \- but he’s resting his head on me in a way that doesn’t make it possible. 

“He needs to be sure he chose the right cousin before it’s too late,” I tell Dev when I position myself back how I was.

“I love you Baz, but I’m quite sure I did,” Niall says, a sweetness to his voice.

He’s so in love, it’s disgusting. It’s beautiful. 

Dev kicks my leg and gives me a triumphant look.

“Heard that, Pitch?”

“Don’t get a big head, Niall simply has terrible taste.”

I get punched on both sides. Those men are brutes, I swear. 

I love them so fucking much.

**…**

“Let’s watch a movie and eat some snacks,” Niall suggests after some more bickering, entangling himself from me. “We didn’t bring them for nothing.”

I give him my best outraged look.

“I thought the snacks were a selfless attempt to be nice to your best friend, Niall, I feel betrayed.”

He shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “It was selfless, we chose them for you. That doesn’t mean we can’t eat some of them,” he says before he bends down to grab two packs of sweet and throw them in Dev and my general direction. They end up on my stomach. “Which movie are you all up to watching?”

I think of one of his earlier comments and answer “Mulan. Since apparently it’s, quote unquote, the best Disney movie.”

“Oh, shut your mouth. It’s your favourite too.”

It is. I’m just fucking with him because I know that movie is dear to him. What are friends for if not for teasing you, anyway?

**…**

They’re for taking care of you when your life is falling apart, apparently. 

The movie has been over for a while, and we’ve just been chatting quietly all together when Niall clears his throat.

“Baz,” he says, sounding uncomfortable, and I know I won’t like the conversation we’re going to have.

His head is still on my shoulder though, and that’s a comfort. That means it’s not _too_ serious. He’d be going out of his way to look at me if it was, but I can tell that the wonderful part of the afternoon when they both pretended I hadn’t tried to kill myself yesterday is over.

“Yes,” I answer with a sigh.

If Niall doesn’t move, Dev does, sitting down. He probably had more than his fill of snuggling. 

“I’m worried about you,” Niall says.

I could have guessed that on my own.

“You shouldn’t be.”

He really shouldn’t. There’s no point in caring for me. It just brings the people who do hurt, as yesterday’s events have shown.

“You’re my best mate, of course I should. You… What you did… It’s serious, Baz. I know you won’t be happy about that, but I think you should see a therapist.”

Next to me, Dev nods in agreement. He has a rare serious look on his face. 

Crowley, did Daphne and the both of them pass the word around?

“I don’t need a therapist,” I answer right away.

I don’t see how talking about my problems could solve them. I’ve talked about the shit that went on in my life with Niall for years and it never truly solved anything. Besides, some of my problems are directly linked to my vampirism. I can’t quite tell a Normal that I feel like I don’t belong in this world because I’m not _really_ alive but that I’m alive enough not to be considered dead and that I feel deeply disconnected from normal people because of this state of in between I’m stuck in. 

“Baz. You tried to kill yourself. You _do_ need a bloody therapist.”

It’s Dev who speaks this time. He isn’t cautious like Niall, he doesn’t beat around the bush. 

He’s the first one to say it.

_You tried to kill yourself._

“And how do you suggest I find one, huh?” I say as I shrug Niall’s head off my shoulder to push myself up in a sitting position. He follows, sitting too, but I’m not looking at him. My eyes are only on Dev. “Do I need to remind you that no mages are therapists and that I can’t talk to a Normal about… some parts of my being.”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Niall says, making me turn my head in his direction. The discomfort in his voice has grown even bigger. “I know a way we could find you a therapist that you could talk to about all the ‘parts of your being’, as you say, because they’re a mage, but you’re _really_ not going to like.”

I _already_ don’t like it. 

I frown. “Why?”

“Well… If I’ve heard about them… It’s…” He clears his throat. Merlin, what is he going to say that’s so terrible? “It’s thanks to Simon.”

_Oh._

My hands clench around the bed sheets at the mention of his name. _Simon._

I knew Niall was still friends with him, and I really don’t mind, Niall can be friends with whoever he wants, and I knew from the moment they were properly introduced that they would like each other, but it’s still difficult to hear about him like that. It’s difficult to think that he’s _Niall’s_ friend. That I hear about him because he’s associated with _Niall._

“What on earth are you talking about?”

Niall shifts, straightening his back. “Simon is seeing a therapist. He has been for a while now, and it’s doing him a lot of good. If his therapist can hear about all of his crazy fallen Chosen One stuff, surely they can hear about your being a vampire.”

Simon is seeing a therapist?

Well, in insight, I suppose it makes sense. He broke up with me because I was in the way of his healing process. That means _he_ wants to heal, and he’s working on that with a therapist.

That’s good for him. I’m glad. He deserves to get better, to be able to live a great life.

I don’t think I do.

… And that’s exactly why Niall thinks I need a therapist in the first place. 

“Do you even have the contact of Snow’s therapist before you offer things?”

I see a glimmer of hope in Niall’s eyes at my answer. It’s not a complete refusal. I’m not clearly saying yes, but I’m not saying no either. 

I don’t even know if I want to say no.

I really don’t want to be talking about all the things that are wrong in my life with a complete stranger.

But at the same time…

At the same time I want to stop hurting. Maybe the shrink could help with that. Or at least they could prescribe me medicine or something. Drug some of the pain away just to be able to go on with my days like a somewhat normal person.

“I don’t, but I’m sure I could get it. I just have to ask him.”

He _just has to ask him._ Because it’s so casual for Niall to talk with Snow. 

I shouldn’t be jealous of it, but fuck, I am. I miss when talking to Simon was a casual thing I could just _do._

“Ask him, then,” I say, decidedly.

“What?” Niall and Dev say in unison.

“Ask him,” I repeat. “Ask him _now_ , before I change my mind, and if he gives you their contact, we’ll book an appointment right away.”

Niall’s eyes go wide. It’s a bit comical.

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Very.”

He doesn’t wait any longer and fumbles for his phone in his pocket as he gets out of bed.

“Stay here,” I tell him.

He gives me a confused look.

“I want to know what you’re going to say. And hear what Snow’s going to say,” I explain.

Hear his voice.

Just hear his voice.

I haven’t in so long.

His voicemail isn’t even his voice, so I couldn’t use that to hear it. To hear him. 

I miss it.

I miss every fucking thing about him. 

“Baz, I’m not sure that’s…” Niall starts with a concerned voice.

“Call him here or don’t call him at all. 

And just like that, he’s sitting on the bed again, next to me, his phone in between us.

It takes Snow so long to answer I fear he isn’t going to, but then, at the last moment, he does.

“ _Hello?_ ”

Just hearing his voice makes me shudder. Fucking Merlin, I love him so much.

“Hey, Simon,” Niall says, making a poor job of hiding his nervousness. He’s glancing back and forth between me and his phone while I just sit there, not moving, not making a sound, so that Snow won’t know I’m with Niall and can hear everything they say.

“ _I’m kind of busy right now_ ,” Simon says. “ _Whatever you want to say, can you make it quick?_ ”

I frown.

“Busy with what?” Niall asks.

Bless him. He said exactly what I was thinking. 

“ _I’m going to a restaurant with Olivia, I gotta get ready_.”

My heart is in my throat.

He’s going to a restaurant. With a _girl_. 

It didn’t take him long to move on.

I feel Dev’s hand on my shoulder, squeezing it, while Niall looks at me with sorry eyes, biting his lip.

“Are you two dating now?”

“ _No? I mean I don’t think so. Whatever, that’s not why you called. What is it?_ ”

“I need you to give me your therapist’s phone number or email address or whatever it is that you use to contact them.”

“ _What? Why?”_ Snow asks, confused, and I can picture his furrowed eyebrows perfectly. 

Niall glances at me, as if he wasn’t sure he could tell Simon why. I nod. I don’t care what he tells him. It’s not like _Snow_ cares. He’s probably too busy falling in love with _Olivia_ to care about his pathetic ex.

“It’s for Baz. He isn’t doing well, and I somehow managed to convince him to see a therapist,” Niall says, a smirk growing on his face. Smug bastard. “Since yours seems to be helping you, I thought they might be able to help him too.”

“ _Baz? What’s wrong with Baz?_ ”

My heart flutters when I hear him say my name. I’m so fucking ridiculous. 

“That’s none of your business,” Niall answers a bit dryly. “He isn’t okay, that’s all you need to know. Are you going to tell me how to contact your therapist or not?”

“ _Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll send you a text so that I can be sure I’m telling you the right thing, alright?_ ”

“Yes, perfect. Thanks.”

“ _No problem._ _But, uh, Niall?_ ”

“Yeah?”

“ _I know that you probably won’t even if you tell me you will, but next time you see him… could you tell him that I’m proud of him for, you know, the therapist thing? I know he thinks that kind of stuff is bullshit, honestly, I did too, but I’m glad he’s still going to give it a try. It can only be good for him.”_

Tears spring to my eyes. 

_I’m proud of him._

“I’ll tell him,” Niall says, glancing at me with a small smile.

**…**

“Who’s that Olivia girl?” I ask Niall the moment he hangs up.

He sighs.

“She lives in the same building as him. As far as I know, they’re friends.”

I sneer. “Yeah, a friend he goes to a restaurant with. Sure. Snow _hates_ restaurants, there are too many people and it’s too fancy for him. He wouldn’t go to one if it wasn’t a bloody date,” I say, letting myself fall back on the bed. 

Dev is quick to follow, lying on his side with his head propped up on his hand, an irritated look in his eyes. If Niall could see past the resentment he had for Snow after the break up and be friends with him again, it’s harder for Dev. He wouldn’t admit it on his deathbed, but he cares about me a lot and I know that he was very angry with Snow for ending things and, incidentally, breaking my heart. He probably is enjoying hearing about his potential new girlfriend as much as I am.

“I mean,” Niall says, as rational as always. “Even if she _is_ his date… You two have broken up months ago. I know it hurts but it’s okay for Simon to want to be with someone else.”

Of course it is.

As long as he’s happy, everything is okay.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t destroy me to think of him dating someone else. 


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet Olivia, folks
> 
> ———————————
> 
> “All that I know is I don't know  
> How to be something you miss  
> Never thought we'd have a last kiss  
> Never imagined we'd end like this  
> Your name, forever the name on my lips  
> So I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep  
> And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe”  
> — Last Kiss, Taylor Swift

**Baz**

I text Niall a bit after they’ve left

7:28 pm : _Do you by any chance know what the Instagram username of Simon’s friend is?_

7:29 pm : **_baz..._ **

7:29 pm : _Do you?_

7:32 pm : **_@livlefebvre_ **

7:32 pm : _It’s not a private account, is it?_

7:32 pm : **_no. don’t dm her or do stupid shit like that basilton_ **

7:32 pm : _Goodbye, Niall._

I leave the conversation to go on instagram and look up _livlefebvre_. I find the account, which as Niall confirmed, is not a private one, so I can see the pictures.

She’s gorgeous, even I can see that.

Dirty blonde hair spilling in long waves, and a very nice face. I click on one of her pictures to see her in more detail. 

Her skin is pale, which is pretty much the only thing she and I have in common. Her eyes are green, and she has freckles like stars scattered on rosy cheeks a nose that’s not crooked. Her teeth however are a bit crooked, but she has a bright smile that makes up for it.

No wonder Snow would fall in love with her. If you’re into women, it musn’t be hard being attracted to her. 

And she’s _blonde._ Apparently he likes that in women, Wellbelove was blonde too, though a lighter shade.

I can’t blame him. I like blondes too.

**...**

**Simon**

I try not to think about Baz as I get ready for my evening with Olivia -restaurant, then we go to her place to watch a movie- but I can’t _not_ think about Baz.

I’d gotten better at it, over the last few weeks, but Niall’s call completely ruined that.

Baz isn’t doing well, which honestly shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does ; he was good at hiding it, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t already _not doing well_ when we were still together.

But he is doing so _not_ well that Niall set his mind on convincing him to see a therapist which Baz _agreed to._

I can’t help but worry about what might have caused Niall’s decision, and even more about what might have caused _Baz’s_ decision. I know his past, at least the things he told me about it, and it makes me fear what he might have done.

Once, when we talked about it, he said he’s stopped… hurting himself, but that he still got urges sometimes. What if he _acted_ on those urges.

The thought makes me sick. Merlin, I hope he didn’t start doing that again. 

I take a deep breath and try focusing on what I’m doing again. Liv is going to come down here anytime soon now and I’m still in my pants -I was in my pants when Niall called. It was awkward talking about my ex getting therapy while practically starkers, I have to admit. 

I put on my black jeans. According to Baz, the black makes them look enough like _not_ jeans to be acceptable to wear out, while still not being out of my comfort zone like dress pants are because it’s _still_ jeans. Christ, I have to stop thinking about Baz. 

It’s going to be easier to achieve when I’m with Liv, I think. Since she’s pretty much the _only_ thing in my life that doesn’t bring me back to Baz -along with Ollie- it’s easier not to think about him when I’m with her.

I wonder if I should put a button down under my jumper. Surely it’s better to go out.

Yeah, I’m gonna do that. 

I grab one of the very few button downs I own, put it on, and then put my jumper over it. It’s v-necked and dark purple. It’s a lovely thing. 

I take a look at myself in the mirror, and smile. 

I look _good._ I could look better, if I worked out more and got some more defined muscles, but I don’t really care much about developing my muscles. 

I’m starting to like the way I look again, now, especially when I wear clothes other than my large shirts and trackies that don’t really help knowing what my body looks like. It feels bloody amazing. I don’t feel guilty when I eat anymore, even when I eat crisps or sweets or stuff like that, which is great too.

My relationship with food is one of the things I talk about with my therapist, which I thought was a bit silly at first, before I saw why we were doing it, like everything I do with her. She says that because of the fact that I didn’t eat enough for most of my childhood and pretty much starved in the summers in comparison to during the year at Watford, I tend to overeat because I still subconsciously think that I’m not going to have enough food and still be hungry unless I’m full, _too_ full. She also says that that’s why I don’t like sharing food, because it makes me feel like someone is trying to take away my food. I just think I’m selfish. 

I go to the bathroom to try and fail to do something with my hair, and then I brush my teeth, which is stupid because we’re going to have dinner, but I have to keep myself busy until Liv arrives.

Ollie finally finds an interest in me again when I go to the living room. He wasn’t impressed by me dressing myself, but apparently, he very much liked that I dressed up because he can ruin my clothes. He’s currently rolling on my lap, his hairs sticking to my jeans. 

That bloody cat. He’s an arsehole. I’d die for him.

I scoop him up and move him so that he isn’t sitting on me anymore. He looks back at me, and meows.

It makes me laugh. 

“Sorry mate, but I don’t want to spend forever brushing your hairs off of me.”

He meows again, not pleased.

“I’ll let you sleep in my bed tonight, alright? You can put your hairs there I don’t care.”

He headbutts my hand, so I start scratching the back of his ears, like he likes. He purrs, and settles more comfortably on the couch.

At first, Penny didn’t want him to go on the couch but since he doesn’t scratch it -and because she’s fond of him too, even if she won’t admit it- he’s allowed to, now, and he really _loves_ the couch. Though he prefers sitting inside the occasional cardboards boxes we have when we buy something because he’s weird like that. I also found him in the laundry basket a million times. 

I’m starting to get a bit bored just sitting here with my cat when I hear knocking on the door. Perfect timing.

I stand up, which Ollie doesn’t like because I stop paying attention to him, and walk towards the door to open to Liv. 

Wow.

“Simon! Hi,” she says as she leans in to kiss both of my cheeks -well, really, she presses her cheek against mine and makes a kissing sound.

It surprised me so much the first thing she did it, but apparently that’s a normal way to say hello where she comes from. 

“You look beautiful,” I blurt out before even saying hello, which is a bit rude I’ll admit it, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

She gives me a smile. 

“Thank you. Do you like my dress?” she asks, her eyes gleaming as she takes her coat off to show off her dress.

It’s light purple -it’s funny how we both went for purple- with pink and white details. It’s a corset type of thing that’s see-through on her stomach, with little flowers made of tulles on the part that’s holding her breast, her stomach, and the top of her long tulle skirt. I had no idea what tulle was two months ago, but spending time with Liv has given me some knowledge when it comes to clothes. 

Her dress is much too extra to go to a restaurant, but Olivia goes to McDonald’s in silk dresses so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. It just makes me feel a bit stupid, standing next to her. I’m dressed so normally compared to her.

“I do. It’s so lovely. You made it, I suppose?”

“Yes,” she says with that soft smile she always has on her lips when she talks about her clothes. She’s so passionate about it, it’s cute. “I finished it yesterday. Mika hasn’t even come to take pictures yet.”

“Oh, do you think you could tell me when she comes? I’d like to see how you guys take the pictures and stuff.”

And I’m really curious to meet Mikaela. I’ve heard about her from Liv a lot, and I’ve seen her in pictures since she models for Liv’s dresses, but I’ve never seen her in real life. 

“Sure! I’ll tell you. We should get going now though, or we’re going to be late.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

She puts her coat back on, and hooks her arm with mine to pull me out of my flat.

**…**

**Baz**

I scroll through _Olivia_ ’s account.

Before really looking at her posts, I check her story. She has quite a lot of things posted on here, a lot of things I don’t care about. And then…

Then there’s a short video of herself in front of a mirror, in a fancy dress, waving and smiling, which is captioned “Going out tonight!”.

My stomach drops.

She’s so fucking beautiful in this. Even in my best suit I can’t rival with that.

She has this model kind of body. Tall, thin, small waist, nice curves. Wellbelove was shaped like that too, though she was more muscular and was more flat.

I can imagine Snow walking up behind that stunning blonde girl, his hand light on her hip as he whispers “You’re beautiful.” in her ear. 

It makes my blood boil.

I skip to the next story, but it only worsens my mood.

It’s another video, but a longer one…

And the camera is pointed at Snow. From the few things I can see, they seem to be in a rather fancy restaurant. The kind of restaurants where _I_ used to go on dates with him. 

“ _Hé, chéri,_ ” the person behind the camera -Olivia, undoubtedly, says.

 _French._ How pretentious. 

I will not comment on the fact that I myself am fluent in french.

The endearment she used makes me feel mildly sick. _Chéri._ Darling. 

“Stop talking in French _,_ ” Simon groans, still looking at the menu. I wish he’d look up. I want to see his eyes. “You know I don’t understand anything you say.”

“ _Simon, regarde moi quand je te parle.”_

There’s amusement in her voice as she says it. 

“I’m not listening to you unless you speak English. And say my name normally it’s ugly in French.”

She giggles again.

It fills me with rage, a rage fueled by my jealousy. I wish I was the one sitting across from Simon in a restaurant, giggling at what he says.

“Fine, then. I said look at me when I’m talking to you,” she explains, with a strong French accent. 

And so he looks at her, and I dive into those blue eyes that still haunt my most cruel nightmares and daydreams. They’re even bluer than in my memory. 

“ _T’es très beau ce soir,_ ” she says, still in French.

 _You’re very beautiful tonight._ Yes, he is. He always is.

He glares at her and lifts his menu so that it’s hiding his face.

She starts laughing softly and the video ends. 

**…**

**Olivia**

“So,” I tell Simon as he’s still looking at the menu, though he’s not hiding behind it anymore. “Any idea what you’re going to order?”

I see him smile. He must be glad I _finally_ decided to speak English. I know it annoys him to no end when I speak French, that’s why I do it. 

“Something vegetarian,” he answers.

“Vegetarian? Why?”

He’s _far_ from being vegetarian. Just two days ago he ate chicken nuggets on my living room floor instead of helping me organize my fabrics like I had initially asked him to.

He shrugs. “My ex is vegetarian, and when I went to the restaurant with him, I ordered the same thing as him more often than not. I got used to choosing the vegetarian options, I guess. Besides, since I’m _not_ vegetarian, as you said, it’s a nice change, eating that way once in a while.” 

He looks a bit uncomfortable when he says that. He used to always be uncomfortable when he talked about his ex, but now he just casually brings him up sometimes. I’m wondering why he’s acting like that tonight. 

**…**

**Simon**

_Vegetarian._

Baz would take the piss out of me if he could hear that, but that’s better than telling my Normal friend that my ex is a vampire, I guess. 

**…**

**Olivia**

“Ah, the much talked about ex. It had been a while,” I say, teasing him.

I wish he talked about his ex a bit _less_ honestly, but I’m not going to say that. I’ve noticed that conversations can be difficult for Simon, I wouldn't want to make it harder by not showing interest, even when I’m not a fan of the topic. I’m very much interested, I love chatting with him. It’s so easy.

Everything is so easy with him.

I’m comfortable with people in general, but Simon has this little something that makes me feel free to be completely myself around him. Tonight, when I showed up at his place in this dress, instead of looking at me up and down and asking if I was going to a costume party like a few of my exes would, he just said I looked beautiful. He didn’t judge me.

He flushes. “Hush. You’re the one who asked. Leave me alone, I have to decide which dish I’m taking.”

“You haven’t already?”

He’s been looking at the menu for _10 minutes._

“No.”

“Oh my God, Simon, hurry,”

He kicks me under the table. Such a gentleman. 

“I’m paying, don’t look at the price,” I add, remembering that Penny and him aren’t loaded.

I don’t understand how they even got an apartment in our building, with how little money they seem to have. 

“You’re _not_ paying.”

“Yes I am, I invited you,” I say in a firm voice. I chose the restaurant, knowing that it was expensive, I can’t ask him to pay more than he ever would for a single meal because _I_ have an expensive taste. “Now _choose_ , for the love of God. The waiter is going to come back soon.”

With that, I take my phone back to let him examine the menu in peace as I entertain myself on social media. 

When I open Instagram, and check my notifications, I see one that surprises me.

“Simon?”

“Hm?”

“What did you say your ex’s name was?”

I hear him more than I see him put down the menu. I’m sure if I looked up, I’d see a confused look in his eyes.

“Baz, why?”

“And his last name?”

“Grimm-Pitch. _Why?_ ” he asks, really stressing the word. 

“Because I think he just followed me on Instagram.”

“ _What?_ ”

**…**

**Baz**

Ok, maybe it was a mistake. Following Snow’s little girlfriend, I mean. But I _miss him_ so fucking much, and she has posted about him on her story today, so it might be something she does regularly, right?

If I was active on Instagram and had a boyfriend, I’d post about him all the time.

I try not to think of Snow as this girl’s boyfriend. 

Instead, I scroll through her page to see if she has pictures with him. To see more of him. 

There’s one picture. It’s from a week ago. One day before Valentine’s Day, I notice. They’re taking a selfie in his kitchen, Snow holding up a plate full of biscuits. He’s smiling widely, and she has her arm around his shoulders.

They’re a pretty pair, the both of them, and he seems to be enjoying himself with her. Baking with her. Going to the restaurant with her. Being called _darling_ by her. 

Loving her.

**…**

**Simon**

It’s a blessing I had put the menu down because I would have dropped it. 

Liv continue to type things on her phone, before turning it to show me…

A picture of Baz.

I remember that picture, he took it at Niall’s New Year’s Eve party, last year. It was just after he’s dyed his hair, and he had makeup on, and he was just _breathtaking._

He’s breathtaking in the picture.

“Is that him?” Olivia asks.

I nod. “Yeah.”

My throat is too dry, and the waiter hasn’t brought us water yet.

I try to clear it.

“Si, are you okay?”

Of course not. Baz just followed her. 

Baz followed _Olivia._ I was on the phone with Niall today and told him I was going to a restaurant with _Olivia._ He must have repeated that to Baz and now Baz must think she’s my girlfriend because that’s definitely the conclusion Baz would come to. 

Fucking hell. 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry,” I answer nonetheless, with a nervous laugh. “I’m just a bit surprised. I haven’t seen him since the break up, even in pictures.”

I unfollowed Baz right after I broke up. I couldn’t risk seeing a picture of him pop up on my feed. It would have hurt too much. 

“Oh. Sorry. But anyway, he’s quite hot, how did you manage to pull a guy like that?”

I smile weakly, grateful for the slight change in topic. Liv teasing me is better than her feeling sorry for me.

One great thing about Liv is that despite how much I apparently talk about Baz, she wasn’t here at Watford or when I dated him. She doesn’t know just how important he was - _is_ \- for me the way Penny does, so she doesn’t pity me the way Penny does. She just knows he is an ex, and since she has a lot of those, she probably assumes that I handle breaking up the way she does. The way I handled breaking up with Agatha. 

Which isn’t the case at all this time, but Liv doesn’t have to know that sometimes I still lie awake at night, my heart aching for his body next to mine, for his laughter in my ear. 

“I honestly don’t know,” I answer her with a smile.

**…**

**Baz**

As I continue stalking Olivia’s account, I notice that there’s another account in her bio. I click on the username and am redirected to an account with countless pictures of a girl just as beautiful as Olivia, wearing gorgeous dresses in each picture.

Reading the bio, I understand that the dresses are handmade by Olivia, and that this is a business account. She sells those dresses.

Curious, I click on a post and start scrolling down to see Olivia’s creations.

She’s talented, and if she’s the one taking the pictures, well, she does know how to show off her dresses. 

Looking at the dresses and the way she shows them is interesting enough, so I keep scrolling, until one picture really stops me.

Olivia is in this one. She’s wearing a dark blue dress with yellow elements, while her model is wearing a yellow dress with dark blue elements. I suppose that the inspiration for this was the night and the day. But it’s not the dresses or the fact that Olivia is here that intrigues me. It’s the way they’re posing.

The model is sitting lazily on something that isn’t visible because of her dress, while Olivia is sitting on the floor, her arms crossed on the model’s lap. The model is holding Olivia’s chin up between delicate fingers, and they look a breath away from kissing, an impression confirmed by the intense look in their eyes.

I’ve seen straight women pose as a couple for artistic pictures, and they didn’t have a hundreth of the chemistry Olivia and her model have.

What if I was mistaken, and Simon isn’t her boyfriend. What if her model is her girlfriend? Or _was_ her girlfriend, I don’t care much as long as it means Olivia isn’t interested in men -for the sake of delusion, I’m going to pretend to be Snow and live in a world where people are only straight or gay. 

I’m going to hold onto that hope. It hurts less than the other option.

**…**

**Olivia**

“Liv, can I ask you a question?” 

He stopped eating his dish to say that. It must be serious. 

I put my fork down as well. “Sure.”

“Is this a date?”

Well, it took him long enough.

I hope I don’t look too taken aback. I wasn’t really expecting the question. Simon can be a bit thick sometimes. 

“Do you want it to be a date?” I answer, because it’s better than _actually_ answering.

“That’s not what I asked.” he says, shifting uncomfortable. That means he doesn't want it to be a date, doesn’t it? 

I can’t help but be disappointed. I had a tiny bit of hope that Simon had moved on from his ex enough to consider… someone else. Preferably me.

“My friends think it’s a date,” he continues. “but you never told me it was. Is it a date?”

I straighten my back. “I would like it to be a date, but only if it’s something you want too. I like you a lot, Simon, and I would lie if I said I wasn’t attracted to you, but it’s perfectly fine if the sentiment isn’t shared. And before you jump to conclusions, I didn’t invite you here to force you to date me or something,” I say with a laugh, to try and make the atmosphere less tense. “I invited you because you’re my friend and I want to spend time with you. But yeah… I wouldn’t mind us being _more_ than friends.”

**…**

**Simon**

Olivia would like to be more than friends with me.

Olivia is _attracted_ to me.

How do all those beautiful people become attracted to _me._ I’m barely above average, and yet I dated Agatha and Baz, and now Olivia is attracted to me too. They all look like they could be bloody models. 

“I… Olivia… I don’t really know what to say, I… I mean I like you a lot, you know that, but I… I don’t think I want to date someone else just now.”

She gives me a kind smile and reaches out to squeeze my hand over the table. “It’s okay. I really don’t care, Simon. I love having you as my friend. But just… If you feel like dating someone else some time in the future, you know I’m here.”

She winks at me, and my heart feels a little lighter. I didn’t want her to be sad or angry with me.

It’s nothing against her, really. If the circumstances were different… well, let’s say I wouldn’t have said no. But the break up with Baz still feels like it was a week ago, sometimes, and this month is particularly difficult, with Valentine’s Day, his birthday coming soon, and the fact that last year, it was in February that I visited the Mage.

And that I started ruining my relationship with Baz. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t help making Olivia french because I am french and egocentric 😂


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, yes big time jump i know but i can’t deal with Baz being depressed

_7 months_

**Baz**

Going back to London is probably the best decision I’ve made since the break up.

My parents were opposed to it, of course, they were afraid of what I would do to myself if I was alone again, but I have my antidepressants now, and I talk to my therapist regularly -she even told them I was making progress- so they let me go. Daphne calls me three times a week just to make sure I’m okay, and Fiona visits sometimes, so does my father when he’s in London for the Coven, but apart from that, they leave me alone. 

So I’m on my own again, doing _much_ better than I did back in November, and I’m resolute on letting myself have fun. As Dev wisely said when I visited Niall and him a few days ago, “You’re 20, you’re hot, you’re rich, you’re single and you live in London. You should be living your best life, mate.”

I intend on doing that.

If Snow can move on and thrive with his new girlfriend, I can stop letting myself be held back by this relationship too. We broke up more than _six months ago,_ after all, and I know he has a girlfriend -even though Niall still argues Simon says she’s his friend- he’s obviously not going to take me back, so there’s no point continuing this pathetic pining that has already taken up too much of my teenage years. 

I’ll always love him. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving Simon Snow. 

But loving him doesn’t mean I can’t fuck others.

The first part of my plan to erase Simon Snow, if not from my heart, from my life, was to make changes.

I unfollowed his girlfriend, for a start, and blocked her for good measure, in case I was tempted to check her account to see him.

I threw away the clothes I owned that he particularly loved, because they reminded me of him too much. 

I got rid of all the things I bought because they were _his_ blue. 

I put the few presents he got me in a box, even those silly stuffed animals, though I can’t say my heart didn’t clench when I closed the box over them.

I deleted his number completely. It was no use, after all. He didn’t even text me for my birthday. 

And then…

I cut my hair.

I can still hear Niall’s shocked gasp when I showed up at his place with my hair cut short. “Like Leonardo DiCaprio in that bloody Titanic movie,” Dev had commented -Niall _loves_ Titanic, and watches it often, which Dev is really fed up with. I must admit my current hairstyle may have been a little bit inspired by this, though. 

Snow loved my hair so much. It was my feature he complimented the most. He was constantly running his hands through it -well, when he wasn’t in one of those moments when he didn’t touch me. Once, I playfully asked him what he’d do if I cut my hair and he said he’d be heartbroken and betrayed.

So long story short, Snow liked my hair, so I cut it. 

It was a bit strange at first. The last time I had had short hair like this was when I was 11. I was used to how I looked with hair below my jawline. But now that it’s been a couple of days, the initial strangeness of it has passed and I really like it. I think I still prefer having long hair, but I don’t hate this. 

The second part of my plan is to find as many men willing to hook up with me as I can. The more strangers touch me, the more Snow’s touch disappears. And I also simply want to have sex after so many months of abstinence, sue me. 

Which is why I’m sitting at the bar of the club near my place. It’s quite a fancy club, I must say. I’m not desperate enough to go to the trashy gay bars in Soho without Dev and Niall.

I’m scanning the room for someone to warm my bed. It’s weirdly easy to find gay men at this club ; I’ve hooked up with at least 20 different people since I came back to London and I haven’t even been here for so long. 

My eyes fall on someone. Something tells me he wouldn’t mind a pretty boy to take home. 

Or to take in the loo, I’m not that picky, and it’s clean enough. I’ve given a few blowjobs there already.

He looks in my direction, and I lean against the bar a bit more, giving him a smirk. If he’s interested, as I think he is, he should start walking towards me…

Bingo. 

My smirk grows wider as he gets closer. 

“Your glass is empty,” the man says when he stops in front of me -at a respectable distance, what a gentleman. 

“That’s a pity. I’m very thirsty right now,” I answer, letting my gaze wander on his broad chest.

His shirt is as open as mine, which is a lot.

Yes, definitely thirsty…

“Do you think I could do something about it?” he says, giving me a seductive smile.

I smile back. 

**…**

**Simon**

I wanted to wait until we were watching some dumb show on TV to talk to her but I’ve already held it back to much, I think I’m going to explode if I don’t tell her. 

“Penny, can I talk to you about something?” 

She looks at me from across the kitchen table, her fork halfway between her plate and mouth. She cocks an eyebrow.

“Can it wait after dinner?”

“No.”

She puts her fork down and intertwines her fingers to rest her chin on them.

“Alright then, what is it?”

I look down at my hands. I’m fidgeting, and I can feel my heart beat faster.

“I’m going to ask Olivia out.”

“Oh,” she says, but she doesn’t sound surprised at all.

I mean, I have been spending a lot of time with Liv recently. Much more than I do with her, and I _live_ with Penny. “Do you think you have a chance?”

I snort. “Am I that impossible to date to you?” I say, faking being offended. 

I know that’s not why she says that. Olivia is so… _Olivia._ And I’m just a bloke who stays at home with his cat and sometimes goes to her place to watch her do her cool Olivia things. She’s much too cool for me.

But then again, so was Baz, and I still dated him. 

“It’s not that. I thought she was a lesbian,” Penny admits, an embarrassed look on her face.

“I can’t blame you, I thought so too for a while, but no. She’s told me about her exes, and though the majority of them are girls, she did date a few blokes and she’d be down to date another one. So yeah, I might have a chance.”

I _had_ a chance, months ago. I didn’t take it, because I didn’t like Olivia like that and I was still pretty hung up on Baz, but now… Well, now things have changed.

The more time I spend with Liv, the more time I want to be spending with her. She’s so nice and fun and she makes me grin like an idiot when I’m with her. And she’s quite attractive too. 

She helped me understand that whole sexuality thing better. Since she’s bi herself, she told me how she felt and how attraction worked for her and it made me realize that I probably was bi too.

And now I want to feel her skin under my hands like I used to want to feel Baz’s, so I guess that’s a good indicator that I’m into girls. 

“Well, I hope she’ll want to date you, then,” Penny says with a smile. 

**…**

**Penny**

I’m so relieved.

It’s been _obvious_ to me for weeks now that Simon was into Olivia, and I was afraid he was trying to ignore it because he was still too in love with Baz, which would honestly have been sad, it’s been _months._ I know that the bond he has with Baz, this bond they had from the moment the Crucible cast them together, is strong, and that he greatly wishes Baz was still in his life, but I’m glad he doesn’t see him as his only possible option for a partner. 

Though I wonder, if Baz showed up here and asked Simon to take him back, if Simon would, despite his blossoming feelings for Olivia.

I think he would. He didn’t break up because he didn’t love Baz, he did so because he needed to for his mental health.

And Simon…

He’s always chosen Baz.

Even when he hated him, Baz was always one of Simon’s priorities. He chose him over Agatha even before he broke up with her, and he didn’t even realize it back then.

**…**

**Baz**

His hair is too light and his eyes not blue enough, but his bed is warm and his expectations low.

He just wants a body, lips pressed against his skin, legs wrapped around his waist, moans falling in his ear. 

Just a body is what I want to.

Someone groaning on top of me, the warmth coming from his hot body warming me up, as he slams into me again, and again, and again, until my hands clench around the pillows where I’m burying my face and I come all over the sheets underneath me. Soon enough, I feel him slip out of me take the condom off. I hear him tie it, and stand from the bed to go throw it in the bin while I struggle to catch my breath. Vampires have good stamina, but my lover for the night was particularly vigorous. I can tell my arse will be sore in the morning. 

A kiss is pressed to my shoulder. I shrug before he can think of kissing me again. 

I’m not here to cuddle. I’m here to fuck, hard and fast, and leave once I’ve come. Nothing more, nothing less. 

I push myself up, and see that he's looking at me.

“Leaving already?” he asks, disappointment clear in his voice. 

“I told you I just wanted to shag.”

I tell all of them, because I know that some people aren’t comfortable being left alone in bed after sex and I don’t want to make someone miserable because _I_ can’t stay in bed after sex without feeling miserable. 

“We just finished,” he insists. “You could stay a little longer.”

I get out of his bed, bending down to pick my clothes up.

“No, I have to go,” I answer firmly as I pull my pants and trousers up at once.

I should probably clean the come off my stomach before putting my shirt back on but I don’t want to stay here any longer. I’ll just throw that shirt in the washing machine, I guess. 

I walk up to the bloke -I don’t remember his name- kiss his lips, both a goodbye and a thank you. He _really_ fucked me well, and he was so big, it’s a pity I don’t hook up with the same person multiple times, I wouldn’t mind having his cock in my arse again.

He doesn’t say anything as I head out.

**…**

**Simon**

I’m so fucking stressed I might die.

Olivia wanted to date me a while ago, but that doesn’t mean she still does. What if she rejects me? 

I mean, she took it well when _I_ rejected her so I won’t be an arsehole about it, if she does, but my ego would be hurt, you know? I’m not confident like her.

I hesitate for at least 5 minutes before knocking on the door.

It takes her a moment to arrive, and I fear she’s gone, but as I was about to turn around and go away, the door opens.

“Hey, Si!” she says, smiling to me.

I smile back, as I look at how she’s dressed. It’s always funny to look at how she’s dressed. 

Most of what she makes is for her shop, but some of her dresses are for herself because she likes living her extra life and lounging around in long princess dresses while doing nothing except watching Queer Eye while eating bags of crisps -which is how she occupies most of her evenings, as far as I know. 

Today, she’s wearing trackies -which I think used to belong to me, when the hell did she steal that?- with a pretty off the shoulder top, which I can only guess is the top of a dress that hasn’t been attached to its skirt yet. 

It’s a funny combo, with her bunny socks. 

“Hey,” I answer nervously. 

She steps aside to let me in and close the door behind us.

“Do you want something to drink? You’re lucky, I made myself coffee ten minutes ago it should still be hot enough.”

I shake my head. “No thanks.”

I make my way through her living room until I can sit on the couch. Her flat is a mess more often than not, because of all the things she lays on the floor when she works on her dresses. I wonder why she doesn’t rent a place just for work, and keep her flat as her home. She definitely has enough money to do that, she’s filthy rich. Her father is some sort of CEO in Paris. 

Once I’m sitting, Liv leaning against the back of the couch next to where I’m sitting, I look up at her. “I wanted to ask you something.”

She frowns. It makes her look a bit ridiculous, but so adorable. “What is it?

“I… Er… It’s… Well… It’s delicate.”

Seeing that I’m well troubled, she walks around the couch to come sit next to me, and lays her hand on my shoulder. I like it. It’s comforting. 

So is her perfume ; cedar and vanilla. 

It always reminded me of Baz’s stupid posh products, except for the fact that the smell was more feminine. Now it just reminds me of her. Even if it smells a bit like Baz, it’s _Olivia’s_ odour.

“I’m listening,” she says, her thumb stroking my shoulder absentmindedly. 

I look at her face, at her forest green eyes, at her freckles that are starting to be more visible because of the first rays of summer sunshine, just like mine, at the golden eyeshadow she always has in the inner corner of her eyes, at…

At her pink lips, that I really want to kiss.

“Liv, I… I don’t know if it’s something you’d still be down for,” I say, swallowing. “But, uh… I’m like… really into you and, so… uh… if you wanted, we could… you know… _date_.”

It’s so fucking hard to get that word out.

In a very childish urge, I want to close my eyes not to see her reaction. But I decide to be brave, so I don’t. 

Her face breaks into a wide smile, and her eyes shine a little bit more than usual.

“I’d love that,” she says, her voice cheerful.

It lifts a weight off my heart. She didn’t reje…

Holy fuck, she didn’t reject me. She wants to be my girlfriend.

My heart is pounding in my chest when her hand moves from my shoulder to my neck. It’s so soft, despite how much she uses it for her dresses. 

“Simon, can I kiss you?” she asks, her gaze dropping to my lips.

It makes me feel all warm inside.

I nod vigorously, and she leans in, slowly, so slowly, her green eyes becoming blurry until they’re too blurry to see, which is my cue to close my eyes before her lips press against mine.

She tastes like cherry and new beginnings.

**…**

**Baz**

It’s like I forget what come tastes whenever I’m not sucking a cock.

Unfortunately, I’m regularly reminded, every time I sink to my knees for another nameless, faceless man who comes by the club. Like now.

Thankfully, we went for a quick blowjob in the loo, so I can just stand up and spit out in the sink, though a bitter aftertaste always remains.

Tonight’s guy flips me around until my arse is pressed against the bathroom counter. I can catch dark blue eyes before he leans in, his hot breath that stinks of whiskey caressing my neck. “How do you want me to take care of you?” he asks, palming my erection through my jeans. 

I whine. I’m so fucking hard, I need to come.

“Blow me,” I answer with a gasp as he flushes his hips against mine.

It’s just fair, after all, _I_ just blew him.

Thankfully, he isn’t one of those guys who get all offended when you ask them for a blowjob, so he simply gets down, his knees touching the clean but not that clean floor as he works my jeans open.

He pulls them down, as well as my pants, just enough to free my cock. 

One of his hands slides under my waistband to squeeze my arse as he swallows me in one go.

I grip the counter, head thrown back.

Merlin and Morgana. 

Too many of the men I’ve slept with recently weren’t great at giving head, it’s bloody amazing to be with someone who knows what he’s doing.

He does something that feels particularly good and my hips buckle, my cock going further down his throat. I expect him to gag, but instead, he moans around my cock, and that does it for me.

Contrary to me, he swallows, wiping his lips as he stands back up.

He closes his trousers that were still left open, and give me a satisfied smile. “Thanks a lot, sweetheart.”

I try to smile back at him but I just came a few seconds ago which makes it more difficult than smiling has any right to be. “Pleasure is mine,” I say under my breath right before he exits the loo. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooooooo.......?  
> *hides*


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “ I used to think one day we'd tell the story of us  
> How we met, and the sparks flew instantly  
> People would say they're the lucky ones  
> I used to know my place was a spot next to you  
> Now I'm searching the room for an empty seat  
> 'Cause lately I don't even know what page you're on  
> Oh, a simple complication  
> Miscommunications lead to fall out  
> So many things that I wish you knew  
> So many walls up, I can't break through  
> Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room  
> And we're not speaking  
> And I'm dying to know  
> Is it killing you like it's killing me? Yeah  
> I don't know what to say  
> Since a twist of fate, when it all broke down  
> And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now”  
> — The Story Of Us, Taylor Swift

_8 months_

**Simon**

I pat the empty space next to me, my eyelids still heavy with sleep. It’s warm, she must have just woken up. 

I stretch, batting my eyelashes to really come awake, and then I’m pushing myself up and out of bed. I rub my eyes with one hand and click on the interrupter to make the blinds go up, just standing there as sunlight fills the room, making all the golden decoration elements shine a little, as well as the dress that’s hanging next to the mirror. This is one of the dresses she made for herself. It’s full of sequins. She decreed we have to go party on my birthday because it’s a shame that I’ve been living in London for so long and haven’t gone to a club yet. 

I’m not really sure about the club thing, but I’ll be with friends so it should be fine. Olivia makes me feel comfortable in settings where I usually wouldn’t be -because _she_ is so comfortable, I just relax with her- Penny makes me feel safe, and Mikaela and her girlfriend are just nice people to be around.

I stop contemplating Olivia’s dress and head out of the room. I’m starving. 

The flat is calm and smells like coffee, so I suppose she’s in the kitchen.

She is.

She’s sitting at the table, in that shirt that’s too big for her -because it’s one of _mine_ \- scrolling on her phone while sipping on a fuming cup of coffee. She looks up when she hears me come in and gives me a small smile.

“ _Bonjour mon coeur._ ”

I’m not mad at it when she speaks French anymore. It’s kind of hot, and she tells me what it means if I ask. What she just said, it means “Hello sweetheart.”. That’s how she says hello to me pretty much every day. 

“Hey,” I answer, leaning down enough to kiss the top of her head. “Slept well?”

“Always when you’re here.”

A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. 

“I was planning on going to the bakery to get us scones for breakfast but you woke up earlier than I thought and ruined my plans,” she informs me as I pour myself a cup of coffee. 

I look over my shoulder. She’s twisted in her chair to look at me, a fake disappointed look on her face.

I put the coffee pot down before grabbing a piece of sugar that I drop on my coffee. A few droplets stain my shirt. 

“Wow, scones, what’s the big occasion?” I ask, turning around to lean on the counter, and to look at her. 

It’s her cue to let go of her phone and stand from her chair. She closes the distance between us, her hands slipping under my shirt to rest on my back. I pretend to ignore her, and take a sip of coffee.

She’s _not_ happy about that.

She takes my cup from me, stealing a sip, before putting it down on the counter. 

“Hey, my coffee!”

“I wouldn’t have taken it if you weren’t rude,” she answers. Then, she puts her hand back where it was, warm and soft on my back. Her hands are always so warm. “And I think you _know_ what the big occasion is, Mr Snow.”

She moves her head so that her lips are next to my ear. “Happy birthday, darling.”

**…**

**Baz**

It’s Snow’s birthday today and I feel like shit. I want to text him so fucking bad. Something simple, just a ‘happy birthday’ but I _can’t_.

He didn’t text for mine, and he’s moved on, he surely doesn’t want me to text

I was only with him for one of his birthdays, and it wasn’t even that good of a day because our relationship was already falling apart. 

So, to change my mind, I do what I always do when I need to clear my head : pick a nice outfit and go hang out at the club until I find myself someone for the night. 

I could also have gone at Dev and Niall’s but their wedding is coming so they’re particularly stressed at the moment and I don’t want to bother them with my pathetic Snow problems.

I look through my wardrobe to find something I want to wear, and settle for a pair of dark jeans and a dark green shirt. It’s simple, but it’ll look good enough if I add some jewelry. Besides, my button down is open enough and my sleeves are short enough -it’s always hot at the club, I can wear short sleeves without freezing to death- to show some of my tattoos, which makes the whole thing look a little less basic as well.

My tattoos.

I got them pretty recently, and the first one was a completely impulsive decision. I was looking at my right arm, the one that suffered most when I cut, and I got sick of seeing all the scars so clearly. I wanted to cover them, and so I did. Now I have a snake around my forearm. The scars are still visible, of course, even those under the ink, but less than before, and the snake is nice to look at. The thing is, after getting it, I wanted to get more. Not to cover my scars, just because I like how it looks. It makes me like what I see in the mirror a little more. So I got another one, a butterfly on the top of my chest. I’m not going for original choices, I just want something aesthetic, and Pinterest has shown me that snakes looked good on arms and that butterflies looked good on chests. I have an appointment for a third one already. 

Of course, the tattoos got me shocked gasps from Niall. Niall is always shocked when I change my appearance, but he did say they look cool, so at least it’s not a bad kind of shock. Dev was mad I got tattoos before him. 

My family still haven’t seen them but I know they’ll make a big deal out of it, like they did with my hair when I cut it. Those people can be so dramatic.

**…**

**Olivia**

I can hear Mika, Yume and Penny chatting distantly in the living room, but I can’t focus on that, not when Simon is about to open his presents.

I’ve started brainstorming ideas for this even before we got together, but the fact that he’s my _boyfriend_ now makes giving it to him so much more stressful. What if he doesn’t like it? I know he doesn’t have the same tastes as me _at all_ when it comes to clothing, he’s always wearing basic things, that’s definitely out of his comfort zone. 

Oh my god, he’ll probably hate it. It was a terrible idea. I should just have bought a camera, I know he loves taking pictures with mine for my Instagram, I’m sure he would be glad to have one.

I’m so close to snatching the package from him and telling him that’s not the good present and simply go buy a fucking camera.

But I don’t. 

It’s too late anyway, he’s started ripping the silk paper I wrapped his present in. It’s the same paper I use for the orders I get ; I don’t own any regular gift paper.

He finishes ripping the paper, discovering what’s underneath it, and my heart is in my throat.

He takes it out of the box, and unfolds it to see the full thing.

He hates it.

I’m sure he hates it. 

**…**

**Simon**

It’s beautiful.

I’ve never seen a shirt that looked anything like that, it’s so original. 

I know the fabric. She made a dress for herself with it, what she calls a “simple silk dress” though to me it didn’t seem simple at all. It’s lilac, and so soft to the touch. It’s cut like a regular shirt, except for the fact that the sleeves are a little bit puffy and that the collar isn’t that of a normal shirt -I think Liv said this kind of collar is called mandarin collar. There’s a long, thin bow around the collar that must be sewn behind the neck to stay in place, in a sheer, purple and pink, flowery material. It’s the same material that she used for the front pocket and for what is the most surprising part of the shirt in my opinion ; the cut pieces. There are triangular shapes cut seemingly randomly -though I know it was on purpose, everything about her clothes is on purpose- on the sleeves and the front of the shirt. Lost in all the silk, there are those little sheer parts. It looks stunning.

It must have taken _so much_ time. 

“Liv, I… It’s amazing, thank you,” I say, looking back at her. She has a nervous look on her face, something very unusual for her. 

My eyes are burning, but I hope she can’t see tears in them. It’d be a bit embarrassing honestly to cry for a present, but the fact that she paid attention to what I said enough to remember that purple was my favourite colour -she made her own purple dress months ago so I know it’s not just that the fabric was there and she used it- and that she took time that she could have spend designing and sewing a piece for her shop to make something for _me_ …

And fuck, I’m crying.

**…**

**Olivia**

Oh.

“Oh, Simon,” I say as I shift closer to him to pull him into a hug. I stroke his hair absentmindedly. “So you like it?” 

He nods. “I love it.”

“I’m glad. I was afraid you’d think it was too extra for you. No offense, but your usual clothes couldn’t be more basic.”

He chuckles, and I hold him a bit tighter, resting my chin on top of his head. He settles more comfortably in my arms and starts drawing abstract shapes on my thigh. It tickles a bit. 

“Well it surely isn’t something I’m going to wear everyday, but, uh, now that I think about it, I guess I could wear it for Dev and Niall’s wedding, don’t you think?” 

Dev and Niall. I’ve heard about them a lot, but I’ve never met them. They’re people Simon became friends with because they’re his ex’s friends so when he meets them, he tries to keep me away. I understand, it’s a bit of a delicate situation. 

Anyhow, Simon is very excited for their wedding -he’s never been to one- and I was thinking of asking him if he wanted me to make him a suit. I suppose I won’t have to ask. 

“Yes I think that with a suit it could be lovely for a wedding.”

“What kind of suit? Tell me your wise things, Miss Fashion.”

I laugh.

“Something grey would fit the colour of the shirt well. Light grey. I think the _one_ suit you own is grey, right?”

He tenses a bit when I say that. 

**…**

**Simon**

“Yeah, it is.”

It’s the suit Baz bought me, all this time ago. I fit in it again now.

“Perfect then, you won’t have to get a new one and you can wear this shirt with it, if you wish. I’ll just take off the bow, it’ll look better without it. The bow is for when you wear it on its own,” she explains. 

“Wait, you can take it off? I assumed it was sewn on it.”

“It’s attached with a little button, so that it stays in place when you’re wearing it but you can also take it off.”

I would have never thought about that. I guess that’s why she’s the one who makes clothes and not me. 

“Oh, okay. But, um, as we’re talking about the wedding…” I start, before stopping to clear my throat. I also free myself from her embrace to be able to look at her face. She looks at me with intrigued eyes. “I asked Niall, and Dev and him are okay with me bringing you to the wedding, so, uh, if that’s something that you would want… Well _I_ would like you to come.”

She looks taken aback. 

“I mean, I’m not opposed, I’d like to meet your friends, but didn’t you say they were your ex’s friends? That means he’ll be there too, right?”

Exactly.

I laugh nervously. 

“Yeah, that’s kind of why I’d like you to come. I don’t think I can handle being around Baz if I’m all alone and Penny is going to be in America by the time of the wedding.”

Besides, I wouldn’t take Penny to the wedding for the obvious reason that she’s _Penny_ and I wouldn’t want her around the Grimms more than necessary, but I don’t have time to explain all the intricate inner workings of mage politics to my Normal girlfriend right now.

I haven’t even told Liv I am -was- a mage, Jesus Christ. It’s gonna be one hell of a shock 

Olivia gives me a small smile, patting my knee. “I’ll come with you, then. Now go get ready, the others are going to be bored to death soon enough and we’re not even dressed yet.”

“That’s on you! I told you not to make them come too early, but no, you _had_ to invite them at 6.”

“Simon! I told you that…”

I stop her with a kiss.

**…**

I should have expected it. The club where Liv takes us is super fancy. She, Mikaela, and Yume are in their element, with their pretty faces and expensive looking clothes -they’re all wearing dresses Olivia made- but Penny and I are _clearly_ not the usual clientele. But well, at least Penny’s with me so I feel less like a fool than when I’m alone with Olivia and her friends. 

We’re in a part of town that I don’t really know, but I know it’s just as full of posh, rich people as our neighbourhood. 

I remember visiting a flat here with Baz before we moved to London.

I shake that thought. It’s my birthday. I’m going to enjoy myself and _not_ think about Baz.

**…**

**Baz**

I’m either cursed, or I have hallucinations now -is that a side effect of the meds I take that I haven’t heard of?- because I’m _sure_ I’m seeing Simon Snow at the club. But Snow would _never_ come to a club, especially in a rich neighbourhood like mine, so it _can’t_ be him, right?

I swallow the rest of my drink, though it’s not going to do anything, it’s non-alcoholic -my therapist said I shouldn’t drink while on antidepressants, but I think she just doesn’t want me to drink, full stop, because I tend to drink too much.

I turn around to order another drink, and when I look back at the room with my virgin mojito in hand, Snow is _still_ here.

Merlin and fucking Morgana.

I look more fixedly, analyzing his surroundings. First I see Bunce, which surprises me even more than seeing Snow, she isn’t the partying type. But then…

Then I see _Olivia._

Of fucking course. His _girlfriend_ must have brought him here for his birthday. If she lives in the same building as Simon, she must be well-off. Probably the cliché of the rich girl who lives off daddy’s money.

I will not comment on the fact that I also live off my family’s money.

She’s sitting next to Snow, and she must say something funny because he burst out laughing.

I put my glass down before I can break it, and look away. I look at one spot in particular.

There’s this bloke who’s been glancing at me in what he must think is a discreet way for a solid hour now. He has a boring name like James or Jake. I had sex with him something like two weeks ago, and I have a rule not to fuck the same person twice but I think I might make an exception tonight. I don’t have time to find someone to flirt with, I need to get fucked out of my mind to forget that Simon Snow is _here,_ and I need it _now._

I throw twenty pounds on the counter and then I’m heading towards that bloke. He smirks when he sees me arrive. 

I give him a questioning look. “Are you down for a quickie in the bathroom?”

His eyes sparkle as he slips his hand in the back pocket of my jeans. 

**…**

**Penny**

Baz is here.

I saw him at the bar. I almost didn’t recognize him, he’s changed his appearance -he has short hair now, and tattoos- but he has the same stance, relaxed, seemingly casual, but that still gives this haughty impression, as if he thought he owned the place. 

Merlin, I hope Simon hasn’t seen him. It won’t do him any good.

**…**

**Baz**

I stumble inside a stall with… Jake? I think it’s Jake. I’m going to call him Jake. Usually I don’t care that much about privacy and do whatever I’m doing outside of the stalls, but since right now I’m going for more than a blowjob, I wouldn’t mind at least being hidden from view, though if someone comes in, they’ll inevitably hear us fuck. 

My hands are already pulling Jake’s trousers and pants down as he squeeze my arse, his hand still in my pocket. 

“Wow, you’re quite enthusiastic,” he says, laughing.

“Shut up and fuck me.”

I reach inside my front pocket and take out a condom, that I put in his hand before turning around.

He tears the condom open as I undo my fly, rolls it down his cock as I lower my clothes just enough to give him access to my arse.

“You got lube?” he asks.

The stall is so small I can feel him wanking to get harder. 

“No. It doesn’t matter. Just hurry up.”

I’ve never gotten fucked dry. It’s probably not gonna be pleasant, but the line between pain and pleasure has been blurry for me for a _long_ time. 

“I’m not going to fuck you without lube,” he says, and I slam my head against the wall of the stall.

Is _fuck me_ really that hard an order to obey?

I’m about to say something biting when I feel two slick fingers starting to press inside me.

Oh.

“Spit will have to do,” he says as he keeps pushing inside me.

I try to relax to make all that unnecessary prep work go faster. I shouldn’t be so pissed to have a lover who’s somewhat considerate, but I’m sad, and frustrated, and angry, and a lot of other emotions that don’t go well together and I just need to feel a cock buried deep inside of me and forget about everything else. 

**…**

**Penny**

“I’m coming back, I gotta go to the loo,” Simon says as he stands up.

“No!” I stop him immediately, grabbing his arm.

I saw Baz get in there with a bloke a few minutes ago. 

Simon gives me a confused look. “What’s wrong?”

“People shag in the bathroom of clubs all the time, Simon,” I explain to him, taking my best bored voice.

He shrugs and frees his arm from my grip.

“Don’t care, I need to pee. Even if you’re right, it’s not like it’d be the first time I hear people fuck anyway.”

“Simon…” I try again, but he’s already gone.

**…**

**Simon**

There _are_ people fucking in a stall, Penny was right. 

I try to block out the sounds, it’s not my business, though they don’t seem bothered at all that someone came in. 

I _try_ to block out the sounds.

But I can’t.

They’re familiar.

 _Much_ too familiar.

One of the people moans particularly loudly, letting out a low “fuck” as the thin walls of the stall tremble, and I freeze.

That voice… I’d recognize it anywhere.

Baz. 


	9. Chapter Nine

**Simon**

I’m petrified.

I want to move, to get the fuck out of here, but I can’t. It’s like my feet are stuck to the ground. 

I want to scream, for it to stop, to cover those sounds, but I can’t. It’s like my throat is tied.

I want to cover my ears with my hands, not to hear the slapping of skin and the increasingly loud moans, but I can’t. It’s like my arms weigh a ton. 

But the worst part…

The worst part is that what hurts the most is in my head.

It’s the pictures I’m seeing in my mind, of Baz with an indistinct bloke. Baz with his cheek pressed against the wall of the stall, his trousers and pants down and his face and shoulders going up every time the other man thrusts inside of him. Baz with that cute grimace that he makes when he’s close to coming, caused by someone else. Hands that aren’t mine grabbing his hips, leaving bruises that won’t last (They never last). 

It makes my blood boil.

I can’t believe he would fucking _dare_.

_I want you so much, Simon. I’ve only ever wanted you._

That must have been all bullshit then, because now he’s shagging a random bloke in the bathroom of a bar. 

That’s probably not the first time he does that. That’s probably something he already did in the past.

He did say he used to go clubbing with Niall and Dev.

All that talk about being a virgin when we first had sex, that must have been bullshit too.

I can’t believe I even thought it to be true in the first place. 

I’m still petrified when the door of the stall opens. 

“ _What the fuck Snow?_ ”

**…**

**Baz**

Jake looks at me like I’ve grown a second head.

“Do you know him?” he asks me, tilting his chin at the frozen shape of Snow.

He’s standing almost in front of the stall where Jake and I are, next to the sinks, and he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

A maelstrom of emotion takes hold of me, but one stands out.

Anger.

How can he fucking _dare_.

I went to that bloody bathroom with that fucking bloke to clear my head and stop thinking about him and now he shows up here?

Why is he even here? What kind of freak goes to the loo at a club for something other than having sex?

Simon Snow, apparently.

“Yes, I do,” I answer, making my voice a bit more calm and controlled. “Can you leave us please, Jake,” I add, glancing at the man.

He looks displeased. I would be too if I found out someone was creeping on me while I fucked and I was told to just _leave_ without any kind of explanation. 

“It’s Jack,” he mumbles under his breath.

I couldn’t care less.

He heads out, though. I wait for the door to be closed to look back at Snow, who’s still standing there, lips parted and wide eyes. He looks fucking ridiculous.

“Snow,” I snap, my voice as cold as it used to be, back in Watford. It’s so easy to slip back in the skin of Watford-Baz. To glare at Snow with angry eyes and spit his name out like an insult. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You cut your hair…” he says, sounding completely high, his eyes scanning my hair.

My bloody hair.

That’s really what he decides to focus on right now?

I fucking hate him.

I want to snog him until he can’t breathe. 

“Yes, I did. Some people like to change things about themselves, but I suppose that’s not your case since you’re still following me around. Haven’t you grown out of your creepy stalking tendencies since you were 15? Do I have to get a restraining order?”

I shift to lean against the wall of the stall. I see Snow catch a glimpse of my crotch as I do. He looks back up immediately, but I don’t miss it. 

I couldn’t miss it. His cheeks are blood red.

I smirk. I haven’t closed my jeans yet. That’s what he looked at. 

“I’m not stalking you, Baz. The word doesn’t fucking revolve around you,” he answers, and I try very hard not to swoon when he says my name. I don’t even care that he’s also saying it like a swear word. If anything, it turns me on. I’ll blame it on the fact that I had an orgasm merely two minutes ago. 

“Doesn’t it?” I ask, faking confusion.

It makes him more pissed off. 

I see he’s about to say something, so, because I’m sure it’s going to stop him, I bring my hands to the opening of my jeans, and slowly, very slowly, pull the zipper up, while maintaining eye contact. His eyes are full of rage. I wish he’d take it out on me, preferably by bending me over the counter or fucking me against a wall, but I honestly wouldn’t be too opposed to being beaten up either. Because I’m disturbed. Ask anyone.

I button my jeans, and that’s when he snaps.

“Just… _Fuck you, Baz.”_

Eloquent as always.

I give him a playful smile, reaching out to trace the left side of his jaw. “Oh, love, wait a little for that. I just came, give me a rest.”

I feel him tremble under my touch, right before he grabs my wrist and yank it away from him.

“You’re hurting me, you fucking brute.” I free myself from his grip, glaring at him. 

I rub my wrist, for more credibility, though in truth, he hasn’t hurt me at all. I just want to see the guilt in his eyes, because Snow is such a good person that he’d feel guilty about hurting even me. 

Well, hurting me _physically_ that is.

There’s something in his eyes, but it’s not guilt. It’s… sadness?

**…**

**Simon**

He’s done it again.

He…

He hurt himself again.

His arms are full of scars, that I can see despite the tattoo he has on his right arm -Baz has a _tattoo._ Tattoos, really, there’s one on his chest too. It’s the perfect spot for a lover to kiss.

So many bloody scars. Small horizontal ones similar to those I would have had if he didn’t heal me when I cut myself to let him drink my blood, but also long, vertical ones that make me shiver just thinking about how much blood he must have lost when he gave himself those. Thinking about _why_ he must have given himself those.

**…**

**Baz**

I freeze when I realize.

I’m wearing short sleeves.

My arms aren’t entirely covered, my scars are showing. 

I’ve never felt ashamed of them before, or like I particularly needed to hide them -I’m not the first person to have self-harm scars and I won’t be the last, and it’s not like they’re going to be gone anytime soon- but right now I wish I had long sleeves I could tug down to hide them from view. It feels so… humiliating, for Snow to see my scars.

For Snow to see how weak I’ve been, relapsing. Hurting myself over a stupid fucking break up. 

I don’t let my trouble show.

“Baz…” he starts, softly, and I feel anger replace embarrassment.

The _last_ thing I want is for Snow to go soft on me because he pities me.

“Shut up. Don’t you have friends to go to?”

That snaps him out of his strange mood.

“Yeah, you’re right, I do,” he says as he hurriedly starts heading out.

Fuck I didn’t think he’d really leave. He never left just because I made him understand his presence was unwanted.

“Snow,” I say before thinking about it.

It stops him in his tracks, his hand on the door handle, half opening it already. He looks at me over his shoulder.

“ _What._ ”

“Happy birthday.”

He slams the door. 

**…**

**Simon**

_Happy birthday._

He wished me a happy _fucking_ birthday five minutes after coming on another bloke’s cock.

I want to fucking strangle him.

He always has to ruin nice things for me, doesn’t he? I don’t even know how he does it, he couldn’t possibly know I was here tonight. I didn’t tell Niall I was going out, let alone where, so he couldn’t say it to Baz -though I don’t think Niall would do that, he’s a good bloke. 

I’m still fuming when I reach the couch where the girls are sitting. Penny is looking at me, anticipation written all over her face, while Liv turns concerned eyes at me.

“We’re leaving,” I say firmly. 

“Why?” Olivia asks. “What’s wrong?” 

I run my hand through my hair. “Baz Pitch, that’s what’s wrong! Baz fucking Pitch. It’s _always_ Baz Pitch.”

**…**

**Penny**

Of course it’s Baz Pitch.

As I look at Simon right now, I have the impression that we’re teenagers again. That this is Watford and that he’s venting to Agatha and I about Baz, all riled up about some stupid fight they had. 

I glance at Olivia.

I feel bad for her. I never really did for Agatha because she was leading Simon on when she knew that she didn’t love him, but Olivia… I know that she really loves him. It’s obvious in the way she looks at him, her eyes lighting up when they’re on him, in the way she talks about and to him, with a softness in her voice she doesn’t have in other situations.

But the thing is...

It has always been Baz Pitch.

And I think it will _always_ be Baz Pitch.

**…**

The ride home is dreadfully silent. Olivia’s friends went back to their place directly after leaving the club because they live in the area, but we had to take the tube. If Simon still had magic, he would have looked seconds from going off the whole time. 

Now, as we walk in our flat, he still does.

I’m a bit surprised that he went home with me instead of Olivia, he practically hasn’t slept here since they got together a few weeks ago, but I don’t let it show. 

Instead, I put my hands on his shoulders. I don’t grip them, but I hold them firmly enough for him to really feel it. 

“Simon. Calm down. Deep breaths.”

His cheeks are flushed and his eyes still full of anger. We left the club over half an hour ago. 

At least he tries to do as I say instead of getting more. I watch him breathe in and out deeply, feel his shoulders rise and fall, until he starts breathing normally again and doesn’t look so furious anymore.

I let go of him and head towards the couch, knowing that he’ll follow me.

We sit there together, first in silence, until I open my mouth.

“What happened with Baz?”

He starts fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“He… He was in there with a bloke,” he says, before swallowing, as if the words are hard to get out. “Fucking in a stall in the loo of a bloody club.” He clenches his fists, creasing the bottom of his shirt. I wince. I knew that already, but imagining Simon hearing Baz have sex with another man… “I was still there when they left the stall, and I… We started arguing. Of course.”

Of course.

Because there were only so few times when they _didn’t_ argue. 

“I’m sorry, Si. It must have been difficult,” I say sincerely.

If it was someone else, I would say that almost 8 months is enough time to get over a break up, but Simon and Baz…

Well, the Crucible cast them together. It was destiny.

**…**

**Simon**

It took me forever to fall asleep last night, courtesy of my _lovely_ ex, but now, I feel better. I’ve had some time to think, and to realize that it’s okay for Baz to shag other people, even if I hate to think about it. He isn’t mine anymore, I don’t have a right to be angry.

Besides, I have Liv, though _I_ haven’t shagged her yet.

I roll on my stomach and groan thinking about it.

Yesterday night should have been the night, I’m sure of it.

We have been fooling around more and more, during the three weeks since we got together, going from touching ourselves together to learn what our bodies looked like and what the other liked, to touching each other, above the belt at first. It was a bit intimidating at first, honestly, touching a girl. I had grown used to a flat, muscular chest, to strong thighs and hard flesh. Olivia’s body… it’s so different. She’s so… _soft._ Her skin is soft, I don’t meet hard muscles when I dig my fingers in her flesh, nor do I feel hard angles. She’s all curves. Her hips, definitely wider than a bloke’s but not that wide, and her breasts. That’s a very nice part of her body to touch, mind you. 

Then things got more heated and we touched under the belt and it was even weirder. I had looked up some stuff on the internet -on regular websites, not those I use on incognito mode- and seen Olivia pleasure herself so I had a vague idea of what I was supposed to be doing, but it’s so _different._ Well, fingering her is the same, except that it requires significantly less lube, but when I tried to use my mouth on her… That’s _nothing_ like sucking a cock. And it’s not that similar to eating a boy out either. But I think I still managed to make her come -not the first time I went down on her, though, which was kind of humiliating- so I wasn’t _that_ bad. 

Besides, it was awkward for her to. She confessed that even if she had been with men before, it was a while ago. She lost her virginity to a girl and only slept with girls ever since. She dated this one bloke a year ago whom she almost had sex with, but they broke up before they did it because he pressured her too much.

I was so scared of making her feel pressured, after she said that, but she assured me that she was quite enjoying the pace at which we were taking things, and that she wouldn’t mind speeding it up a bit, if I wanted to. 

So yesterday, I thought we would do that. _Speed it up._ We would have spent a nice evening out in a club, and then we’d have gone home and awkwardly fumbled our way through our first time together. It would have been sweet.

But of course, fucking Baz Pitch ruined that. 

I won’t let him ruin it any longer. I know Liv wants to fuck, and I want to fuck. We have no bloody reason to hold back. 

**…**

**Olivia**

I don’t think Simon will come see me for a moment, he seemed pretty shaken about having seen his ex, so I keep myself busy by doing what I do best : dresses. I have to recreate one of my popular ones for an order. I had planned on working on it anyway, though I thought I would be doing it with Simon chatting with me while watching a show or making us a nice meal. 

I’m just done attaching one of the sleeves to the bodice when the front door opens, surprising me.

I really didn’t think he’d come. 

I feel a smile spread on my lips when he appears in my sight. He’s wearing one of those tracksuits that do wonders to his arse and a shirt that has coffee stains on it -all of the shirts he uses as pyjamas have coffee stains on them. He’s so cute.

“ _Bonjour mon coeur,_ ” I say automatically when he walks up to me.

I stand up to put the dress back on the mannequin. It’s almost finished, thanks to my sleepless night, so I can afford to spend some time relaxing with Simon instead of working while he does his things around my flat. 

His hand falls on my hip and he pulls me into a soft kiss.

My own hands wind around his neck, my fingers getting lost in his messy curls.

When he pulls back, he tilts his head to whisper in my ear.

“I want you.”

A shiver runs down my spine. Jesus Christ, that was hot. He isn’t usually that direct about _wanting_ _me._

“How do you want me?” I ask, because my heart is already fluttering and I don’t want to get my hopes high if we don’t have the same thing in mind.

His voice is warm and bewitching when he next speaks.

“I want to make love to you. Fuck, Liv, I want to be inside you.”

Heat blooms low on my stomach. 

“Please,” is all I answer, pressing myself against him more.

He groans. I can feel that he’s getting hard already. 

All of a sudden, I feel his large, strong hands grab the back of my thighs, and then he’s holding me up. He frees one of his hands long enough to untie my hair as I wrap my legs around his waist, cupping his face to kiss him.

He miraculously manages to carry me to bed without tripping on something, and he lets me down gently.

I wish the view he had of me right now, as I’m spread out in front of him, was better. It’s not like I was planning on having sex with him this morning. If I had had any idea this might happen, I would have put on some nice lingerie and one of my pretty night dresses, not that ratty t-shirt I stole from him even before we were together and comfy but not particularly aesthetically pleasing panties. 

**…**

**Simon**

I feel myself harden as I look at her like that, spread out in front of me on her bed, her hair messy against her bed sheets, her cheeks slightly flushed -she flushes so easily-, her never ending legs on full display and wearing _my_ shirt. It does something to a very primitive part of me to see her in my clothes, so much so that when she takes hold of the hem of the shirt to take it off, I almost stop her.

Almost.

The moment her shirt falls on the floor, I lose all ability to have a coherent thought. 


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enters Lamb

**Baz**

I come to the club almost every night after my… let’s say unfortunate encounter with Snow. I get other men to moan in my ear to forget his voice saying my name like a curse word. 

I think I’ve spotted tonight’s bloke already. He’s been watching me for a moment. In truth, I think he’s been watching me for a few nights, tonight wasn’t the first time our gazes met, but it is the first time it happens so intensely, and he’s much closer than he usually is.

It should probably creep me out more than it does to know that this stranger has been watching me, but there’s something about him that makes me trust. it’s based on absolutely nothing, but I have this gut feeling that he doesn’t want to cause me any harm.

Besides, in places like this, even the very proper, very fancy ones, people who want to cause you harm simply do it. I can’t even remember how many times someone has grabbed my arse or ground against me or palmed my cock without asking. Some can get a bit aggressive when I push them away, but this aggressiveness never lasts long. Maybe my being a vampire brings out something intimidating to Normals that makes them want to avoid crossing me, like Snow’s magic used to repel Normals.

_No._

There’s a handsome man walking up to me. I’m _not_ thinking about Snow right now.

I relax against the bar as the man stops next to me.

“Hi,” he says, giving my chest an appreciative look.

“Hello,” I answer, looking down at my glass, feigning disinterest. I notice that it’s empty. I look up at the bloke with the shadow of a smile on my face. “What does someone have to do around here to get a drink?”

He smiles back, something small and quickly gone but definitely amused, before he snaps his fingers to catch the bartender’s attention.

I take a few seconds to look at him while the bartender comes here. Thin, silky looking brown hair. That’s not usually what I go for but I’ve slept with a considerable amount of men who come here already so if I don’t want to fuck someone again, I have to be less picky. Besides, he has blue eyes, so that makes up for the brown hair, though his eyes are lighter than Snow’s. He probably has the most beautiful face of all the men I’ve had sex with yet, all thin features. That’s not usually what I’m attracted to but there’s _really_ something about him. Maybe the confident way he stands and acts plays a role in that. I find confidence particularly sexy. 

The bartender gets there. His eyes are a little wide, and they’re only on the man. That’s strange. Not to be self-centered, but I hooked up with that bartender, and he’s still been occasionally glancing at me, even when I was actively flirting with someone. 

“What can I get you?” he asks.

“Two bloody marys. You know how I like mine. Make a regular for him,” the man answers. He has an accent I can’t quite identify. He sounds like any Londoner, but with traces of another accent. 

There’s a strange edge to his voice when he says that.

I frown. I’ve looked at the drink selection enough to know that the bloody mary is a special drink for members, which I find a bit weird because first of all, why make a drink like _bloody mary_ your special drink, this thing is disgusting, second of all, why make your _only_ special drink a bloody mary -once again, _that thing is disgusting_ \- and third of all, because I’ve never actually seen someone with a membership, nor do I know how the hell to get one and I’ve spent dozens and dozens of evenings here. 

“I don’t like bloody marys,” I say, pouting a little.

It makes him smile.

“I’m sure you’ll like this one, sweetheart,” he answers with that same edge to his voice and a mysterious look in his eyes. He then leans against the bar casually, his gaze settling on my face after having explored my body. “But tell me, pretty boy, do you have a name?”

“Charles,” I answer automatically.

It’s probably stupid, but I never give those men my real name. There’s something amusing about changing names every night. 

“Charles…” he repeats. “Lamb,” he says with a smirk. “I’m delighted to meet you, Charles.”

Lamb? That must be a fake name too. That can’t possibly be his real name.

Though really, _my_ name is Tyrannus so maybe I should keep my mouth shut when it comes to other people’s names. 

I give him a flirtatious smile. “A shared feeling.”

The bartender comes back with our drinks before any of us can say anything more. The moment I grab the glass I freeze.

It smells…

**…**

**Lamb**

His eyes go wide when the smell of the drink reaches his nose.

Bingo.

I had my doubts, honestly. He was behaving so well around humans, almost like he was one of them. 

I take a sip of my own drink as he shoots me a panicked glance.

Usually, I can drink without my fangs dropping, but for his sake, I let them. I can tell that his own cheeks look a bit fuller right now.

I bring my glass down to whisper, “Don’t worry.” before smiling just wide enough to show my fangs. 

It doesn’t seem to make him any less uncomfortable.

He points at the drink. “What’s in this?”

“Pig, from the butcher. If you want a better treat, we’ll have to go somewhere else.”

**…**

**Baz**

Oh, fuck me.

The _one_ fucking club I go to serves _blood_ ? And that bloke somehow knows it? And the bartender wasn’t fazed at all to make a drink with, I repeat, _fucking blood_ in it?

He probably is a vampire too, then.

How could I not _know_ he is a vampire I had his cock in my arse. 

“I _don’t_ want a better treat,” I answer, feeling a shiver run down my spine at the thought of what this _treat_ must be.

Do they keep humans captive in their basement or what?

Lamb simply shrugs, before swallowing all the content of his drink in one go. I watch his throat move as he swallows the blood.

I want to sink my fangs in it.

Wow, okay, what was that.

I usually _don’t_ like thinking of my fangs in someone’s flesh. The only person I’ve ever felt a burning desire to bite was Simon Snow. With other people, it’s more controlled. I know that I want their blood, especially when I haven’t fed in a while, but I don’t actually want to bite them.

Wanting to bite a vampire is even more crazy. He _consumes_ blood too, surely I can’t suck it out of him. 

What I can do, however, is empty my glass. The blood has been given to me, I might as well drink it. 

As I feel it on my tongue, I remember Lamb’s words when he ordered. _You know how I like mine. Make a regular for him_. What does that mean? In what way is the blood I’ve been given different from the blood Lamb just drank?

When I put my glass down, I ask just that.

He gives me an enigmatic smile.

“That’s a question I would rather answer somewhere more private, in order to avoid eavesdropping. Would you mind following me?”

If there are one thing mages’ hatred should have taught me about vampires, it’s not to follow one alone anywhere.

But I’m a vampire, and he just had some blood, so I don’t think I really _can_ be in danger. 

“Lead the way, then.”

**…**

He takes me behind the curtains.

I’ve never even seen someone go behind those curtains yet, though I have been intrigued by them, since there was obviously something that wasn’t meant for the public there.

It’s just a corridor so far, with the same black floor as on the main room, but the walls are different. There’s wallpaper on it while in the main room they’re just painted.

We pass by a few -6- doors, but don’t enter any of those rooms. Instead, we reach the end of the corridor, and a staircase. It goes both up and down. 

We go up.

Lamb still isn’t saying anything, but I think I prefer it that way. I can look at my surroundings without being distracted by him. 

We climb four flights of stairs -isn’t there a bloody lift?- before Lamb stops. I think we’ve reached the last floor, anyway.

We’re in front of a large black door that Lamb unlocks with a card he has on the front pocket of his trousers. 

“Come in, Prince Charles,” he says as he walks inside the room.

Maybe I should have chosen another name.

I follow him, and realize that this isn’t a _room._ It’s a flat. Well, the penthouse, it seems, since we’re on the last floor and I can see a patio behind large glass doors.

“Welcome,” Lamb says with a dramatic bow.

It makes me smile, though I’m still a bit astonished that he took me to a flat. Probably _his_ flat.

“Is this yours?” I ask as I look around the room.

It’s full of modern furniture that I know costs a fortune. The room we’re in now is probably the living room, there are couches and armchairs and a coffee table, a television and a stereo, fancy abstract paintings on the walls, and what is in my opinion the centerpiece of the room : a big, glossy black piano. It’s splendid. 

“It is,” Lamb answers, bringing my eyes back on him. There’s the shadow of a smile on his lips. “Technically, this entire building is mine.”

My eyes go wide.

“You’re the owner of the club?”

He smiles a little more. “I am.”

“Jesus Christ.”

I’ve gotten used to swearing like a Normal around non-mages. It sounds wrong in my mouth, but it’s better than to pass off as a madman. 

“So a _vampire_ owns a club where tons of humans go to _each day_?”

“Why do you think smoking inside the club is forbidden?” 

I wasn’t even aware of that rule. In my defense, I don’t smoke -well, except when I’m at home and feeling on edge- so I don’t care whether or not smoking is allowed where I go, but it’s true that now that Lamb says it, I’ve never seen anyone use a lighter in here.

“Do you want something to drink?” Lamb’s eyes sparkle with amusement as he speaks. “Something _normal_ to drink?”

“No, thank you. I’d like my question to be answered, though. How was your drink different from mine?”

He walks to a couch and sit on it, his legs crossed with his ankle on his knee and an arm spread out on the headrest. He pats it. “Come here, I’ll tell you.”

I go sit next to him, a small distance between up. It’s large enough for our bodies not to touch as we are right now, but not large enough for our bodies not to touch at all. I could easily rest my hand on his thigh, or he could rest his hand on mine.

I want to.

Despite the weirdness of the situation, I still want to fuck. I’m _really_ horny, and he’s _really_ attractive. More so now in a better light than the aggressive neons of the club.

I slip my hand on his thigh.

The corner of his lips twitch when I do, but he doesn’t comment so I suppose he’s okay with that.

And I suppose he wouldn’t have brought me to his flat if he didn’t want sex too.

But now I want _answers._ “So, that blood?” I ask, clearing my throat. 

“It was his,” Lamb answers.

“I’m sorry what?”

“My bartender. It was his blood.”

What the—

Lamb cocks an eyebrow. “Why do you look so shocked?” he asks, as if he couldn’t see what could possibly shock me in this scenario.

“You drank one of your employees’ blood,” I say, astonishment in my voice.

I’m no expert in workplace etiquette, but I’m pretty sure that’s not very professional.

“I drink all of my employees’ blood. Why do you think they work here? They get paid a generous amount to keep their mouth shut, _and_ they get bitten. I have people working at my club, _and_ blood. It’s an exchange of services, if you will.”

There’s definitely something widely unethical about that.

“And they’re okay with that? You being a vampire? You being a vampire that _drinks their blood_?”

**…**

**Lamb**

God, is he really that young or is he just daft?

“They crave it, sweetheart. You know that the bite feels good for humans, don’t you?”

I really hope he _does_ know. That he’s bitten a person before. He looks sickly, his complexion a bit too grey, he must mostly feed off animals, but still…

“Yes.” Thank God. “But how do _they_ know it feels good? Hell, how do they know vampires exist?”

“I wouldn’t know. Everywhere I went, there were always some humans who knew we were real. Usually, they couldn’t find us, though, which is a pity because it’s much more enjoyable to bite someone who wants it.”

He cringes at that. I can’t blame him. When I think back of all these times I bit people who didn’t want it… it’s not something I’m proud of. 

“So,” I continue. “I gave them a place to find us. You said you didn’t want a treat, so I didn’t take you there, but I could show you. There’s another access door, that leads to the first floor, to another part of the club. The mortals who want to be bitten know to come there to find someone who will want to bite them. Just like people come to the room on the ground floor to find someone to fuck. They come, do what they’re here for, and leave satisfied.”

**…**

**Baz**

There’s an entire population in London that knows that vampires exist and willingly seek to be bitten by them in a club where I’ve been going on most nights for weeks and weeks and I’m only now finding out.

I feel a little lightheaded.

Lamb’s hand falls over mine on his thigh, squeezing it.

“Are you alright?”

“I… I don’t know. It’s a lot.”

My whole life my vampirism has been a shameful secret I tried my hardest to keep. Meanwhile, other vampires are practically advertising the fact that they’re vampires. 

“Charles, how old are you?” Lamb asks, his voice soft. It helps calm the pounding of my heart a little bit.

“20.”

He smiles. “And how long have you been 20?”

“4 months.”

His face falls. He was probably expecting an answer with at least one 0.

“Oh my God.” His hand goes to my face, stroking my cheek. I lean into the touch. A stranger touching me shouldn’t feel this comforting. It’s not comfort I usually seek in a stranger’s touch. “You’re really young, aren’t you? When were you bitten?”

“When I was 5.”

His hand clenches around my jaw. Not enough to hurt, but enough to tell me he doesn’t like my answer.

“That’s disgusting. The bite isn’t pleasant when it’s forced upon you for anyone, but when you’re a child… I’m sorry you had to go through that. Children… They’re off limits, usually, but some people are… well they’re _not_ people if they hurt children.”

**…**

**Lamb**

Vampires don’t have much ethics, most of us have already bitten someone who wasn’t agreeing to it, but if there’s one unspoken rule among all of us, it’s that you don’t touch children. 

Most people consider us monsters, but they forget we’ve all been human too. The wide majority of us still have this very human feeling that children must be kept safe. That you mustn’t harm them. They’re too young, too pure, too innocent for the bite. They wouldn’t understand what’s happening to them. 

We possibly value them more than humans do, since so many of us want nothing more than to have a child, but can’t.

But unfortunately, like with humans, some of us still hurt children. 

When I lived with an Hungarian clan, I saw one of the most respected and feared vampire of the clan being burnt by people who used to step aside when he walked by because he bit a child, that’s not something that’s taken lightly.

I hope whoever turned that boy went up in flames. 

He looks away.

“It was a long time ago.”

I’d say 15 years is a ridiculously short time. 

I see he’s about to say something, but he stops. His phone is buzzing. He takes it out of his pocket, and frowns when he sees the name on the screen.

He looks at me hesitantly. 

“Take it if it’s important.”

It’s not like it’s going to ruin the mood ; there’s no mood to be ruined anymore. 

I don’t expect much from him tonight, except maybe some more chatting if he is up to that after his phone call. 

I had some more sinful expectations, when I walked up to him at the bar, but they vanished when we came here. He’s too shaken by the things I told him, for a reason I still don’t understand, for me to do anything with him now. 

He’s up from the couch in a second, bringing the phone up to his ear.

“Hello?”

**…**

**Baz**

“ _Baz, thank Merlin,”_ Niall says with a relieved sigh, as if a gigantic weight had just been taken off his chest. Crowley, what’s happening?

“What’s wrong?”

“I need you to unblock Simon and to call him right now.”

I freeze. I _know_ that Niall is good friends with Snow, but he never brings it up, except when it’s really important like when he got my therapist's email address from him.

“What? Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because it’s the middle of the night and he just called me up sobbing and begging me to ask you to call him. I think he was having some sort of panic attack, and he kept saying your name.”


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “ There goes my heart beating  
> 'Cause you are the reason  
> I'm losing my sleep  
> Please come back now  
> There goes my mind racing  
> And you are the reason  
> That I'm still breathing  
> I'm hopeless now  
> I'd climb every mountain  
> And swim every ocean  
> Just to be with you  
> And fix what I've broken  
> Oh, 'cause I need you to see  
> That you are the reason  
> There goes my hands shaking  
> And you are the reason  
> My heart keeps bleeding  
> I need you now”  
> — You Are The Reason - Calum Scott

**Simon**

It’s hot, so hot, much too hot. 

The smoke is blinding, and it’s filling my lungs, making me choke on it, but I can’t turn back, it’s as if my body won’t let me walk any way other than forward. 

There’s a cruel, hysterical laughter ringing in my ears, freezing me to the bones. 

But the worst part… the worst part is that I can’t save him.

I’m trying to run towards him, to carry him out of the house before it’s too late, but I can already feel the foul smell of burning flesh. 

When he’s finally in my sight, I fall to my knees, tears that aren’t only caused by the smoke rushing to my eyes.

_“Baz!”_

I wake up with a jerk, my heart pounding so hard in my chest that it hurts, real tears running down my cheeks.

I look around me, and sigh when I see a body next to mine, before feeling panic rise inside me again when I realize that it’s not Baz.

It’s not Baz.

It’s _not_ Baz because Baz isn’t here. 

I don’t know where Baz is.

Baz may be in danger.

“Baz,” I say again as I jump out of bed. 

I grab my phone, and start walking out of the room while unlocking it with trembling hands. I’m sweating and there’s a lump in my throat. I’m going to throw up.

Baz. I look for the contact with Baz’s name. Baz, Baz, Baz… here it is.

I push the bathroom door open with my shoulders and sink on the floor, next to the toilet, just in case.

I’m trembling all over and I have so many tears in my eyes, I can’t see anything.

I manage to click on the icon to call Baz, but I’m directly sent to his voicemail.

Baz isn’t answering. 

Where is Baz?

I try again, my breathing starting to be laboured.

Still nothing.

Baz isn’t answering, Baz isn’t answering, Baz isn’t answering.

Baz may be in danger.

I retch, and bend over the toilet seat, coughing and coughing and coughing, throwing up bile while I hold onto the seat as best as I can with one shaking arm. 

Baz. Where is Baz? Is Baz okay?

I let myself fall back in the tiny space between the toilet seat and the wall, sobs now escaping my throat instead of bile. I press my hand to my mouth to muffle them as I look for another contact on my phone.

My hand shake so much that I drop it. It makes so much noise when it falls against the cold white tiles. 

I slam my head against my drawn up knees in frustration before reaching for my phone, pressing my hand against my mouth more. There’s spit on it, and tears and snot too. It’s disgusting but I don’t care.

I finally find the contact with Niall’s name.

Niall is Baz’s friend.

Niall should know where Baz is.

I put the phone on speaker and put it down on the floor because I know my hand is trembling too much. I’d just drop it again if I kept it.

A few beeping sounds, and then Niall’s voice is filling the room, along with my uncontrollable sobbing.

“Simon?” he says, his voice tense. “Simon, what’s wrong.”

“Baz,” I say.

It’s like it’s all I can say. All I can think about.

Baz, Baz, Baz.

Baz going up in flames.

Baz dying because I didn’t protect him.

Baz.

“Baz, I need… Baz… talk to Baz… please… please I need to talk to Baz… please, Baz, please.”

“You want to talk to Baz?”

“Yes! Yes, Baz, please… please, Baz, I need… _please_.”

A sob louder than the others escapes my lips and I feel my shoulder starting to shake violently.

I need to talk to Baz.

I need…

I need Baz.

“Okay, Simon, take deep breaths, try to calm down, I’m going to call Baz and tell him to call you, alright?”

I nod vigorously. “Yes, call Baz, please, yes.”

He hangs up immediately.

He’s going to call Baz. Baz should call me after, right?

Maybe he won’t. Baz doesn’t care about me now. 

Or maybe… maybe he won’t call because he’s not okay.

Maybe Baz is in danger.

_Please call me._

**…**

**Baz**

I excuse myself to Lamb, claiming that it’s an emergency _-it is-_ and practically run out of the building. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem cross with me for leaving so abruptly. It’s a good thing. I’d like to talk to talk to him again. I’d like to do more than talking.

The moment I’m on the street, I’m calling Snow’s number. I walk back to my building -to my car, really- in the meantime. If for some crazy, impossible reason, he needs me, I’ll leave right away. 

The beeping noises are driving me mad. Why isn’t he fucking answering if he wants me to call?

My breath gets stuck in my throat when he picks up.

I miss the beeping already. It’s so much better than his laboured breathing and sobs. 

Merlin, what’s wrong with him?

“Baz? Baz, oh my God, Baz.”

I start walking faster.

“Snow,” I say with a voice that I hope is firm but not so much so that it would make him feel like he’s being yelled at. “What do you want?”

“Baz… Baz, are you okay?” 

The way he’s saying my name, like a plea, like a prayer, is killing me. 

I’m near my building now. 

“Yes, I’m okay Snow.” 

“Oh my God, Baz, it was awful, I… you…” he says, and I can hear the tears in his voice. His face must be full of them.

He’s starting to breathe more heavily, and I think I understand what’s happening. What caused him this state of panic.

I’m nervously pinching my arm with the hand that’s not holding my phone. 

“You had a nightmare, didn’t you?”

More often that not, he wasn’t with me when he had a nightmare, and the few times when he was, he pushed me away and fled to another room. I only got to help him through it maybe 3 or 4 times, and it was always heartbreaking. He reacts so violently to them.

“Yes… You… you were… he…” Another sob. My heart clenches in my chest. “I needed to know you’re okay.”

“I am, I promise I am. No one’s going to hurt me. No one’s going to hurt _you._ It’s alright, Simon.”

He’s still sobbing. I can picture him perfectly, sitting on the floor, with his knees against his chest, trembling all over, his face a mess of tears and snot. 

My poor Simon.

He’s too good to endure so much suffering.

“It’s not! He… What if he comes back and… and… and he hu-hurts you and I can’t pro-protect you?”

I don’t know who ‘he’ is exactly, the Mage or the Humdrum. Either way, I know I’m safe from them. But Simon doesn’t. Right now, he doesn’t know that. Because he had a nightmare and he’s alone and he’s panicking and all he has to ground him is my voice and it has never been enough. Simon needs someone actually _here_ with him when he's in a state like this.

I fumble in my pocket for my car keys.

It’s a stupid and crazy idea, but…

“Simon, do you want me to come to your place? That way you’ll see that I’m fine.”

“Yes, yes, please Baz, yes, come, Baz, please.”

“I’m on my way.”

I’m coming, love.

I’d always come to you.

**…**

**Simon**

Baz is okay.

Baz is coming.

I’m going to see Baz.

God, I’m going to see Baz.

I try to take deep breaths, like he taught me, to calm down a bit. 

I’m going to see Baz. It’s okay. Baz is going to be here. Baz isn’t hurt. 

It takes me a few minutes, but eventually, I’m breathing normally again. My heart is still beating too fast, but that’s a minor inconvenience compared to throwing my guts up while sobbing. I stand up, flush the toilet, and head out of the bathroom. I use the flashlight of my phone to walk through Liv’s flat without tripping on the many things that are always scattered on the floor, and grab a pair of trackies that I left there on the couch earlier. I put it on, and then I’m heading downstairs to wait for Baz.

**…**

**Baz**

The ride to Snow’s place is excruciatingly long. Objectively, it isn’t that long, but the knowledge that he isn’t okay and that each second I spend driving there is a second he spends alone in a bad mental place makes those seconds feel like hours.

I just want him to be alright. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for him. Simon Snow shouldn’t be sad, or worried, or hurting a single day in his life. 

If only I could take his suffering and make it my own, to relieve him from it. I’d gladly bear all the pain in the world if it means he doesn’t feel any. 

I park close enough to his building, and run the way there. It’s 2 am, no one is here to see me act like a fool.

Except him.

I expected I’d have to call him to ask him to open the door for me, but instead, this absolute idiot of a man is sitting on the steps that lead to the entrance door, in a t-shirt and a tracksuit. He doesn’t even have shoes on.

He’s a disaster.

“Baz!” he shouts the moment he sees me.

He jumps up on his feet and runs to me. Soon enough, I’m being crushed against his chest as he repeats my name again, and again, and again. 

Baz, Baz, Baz, Baz.

At some point, he starts crying again.

I’m petrified the whole time. My heart is screaming at me to hug him back but my brain has stopped functioning. 

Simon Snow is holding me in his arms.

Simon Snow is clinging to me like to a rock in a raging ocean.

Simon Snow is saying my name like a prayer, tears flowing down his cheeks.

Simon Snow had a nightmare where harm came to me and it unsettled him so much that he _begged_ Niall to ask me to call him. 

“It was horrible,” he chokes out. “You… He… He burnt you… like… like he burnt her and you… There was nothing I could do.”

He lets out a sob and my brain decides to start working again. I wind my arms around him, holding him in a way that I hope is somewhat comforting.

I want to kiss his forehead. It’s _right there_ , in front of my lips. I’d just have to move a little bit…

But no.

I’m not the one who has the right to kiss Simon’s forehead anymore. To kiss any part of his body. 

“It’s alright, it was just a dream. He’s in prison, Simon, he can’t hurt us anymore. It’s alright, stop crying,” I say, much more softly than I should, as I start rubbing his back.

 _Us._ It hurts to say the word, because really, there’s no us anymore.

“I was so scared,” he admits. He isn’t sobbing anymore, but he certainly is still crying. “It had been so long since the last time a nightmare felt so real.”

**…**

**Simon**

Because he wasn’t there when I woke up. 

**…**

**Baz**

“It’s over now.”

I take my hands off his back, and slowly free myself from his embrace. Every move to get away from him is like a stab in the heart. 

“You should go back to sleep. It’s late, and look at you, you don’t even have shoes or a jacket.”

“It’s the summer.”

“It’s _England._ Just go back to sleep, Snow. I have to get going. I was kind of in the middle of something before Niall called me because of your little crisis. I missed out on what I’m sure would have been a good shag because of you.”

Anger flashes in his eyes.

Good. It breaks my heart, but it’s good. 

Being mean to him… It’s keeping me from sinking to my knees and begging him to take me back. Having him angry at me is easier to handle than having his warm body that I miss so much pressed against me, hugging me, the bewitching smell of his blood filling my nostrils because of how close he is.

**…**

**Simon**

Of fucking course. 

God, I hate him so much. I can’t believe I was making myself sick with worry for that arsehole while he was trying to get in some other bloke’s pants.

Probably _succeeding_ in getting in another bloke’s pants. Who would be crazy enough to say no to a man like that. 

“Well, I guess you can go back to fucking strangers in bathrooms stalls, then,” I answer coldly, turning around because he can see the tears in my eyes.

They’re not here because of my nightmare this time. 

“Jealous? Do you wish I fucked _you_ in a bathroom stall?” he sneers. 

I’m going to fucking gouge his eyes out.

“Fuck off,” I say, my voice trembling. I don’t know if it’s from anger or… something else. 

I reach inside my pocket for the entry pass but…

It’s not here. 

I didn’t take any keys when I walked out.

“Fucking hell,” I groan, punching my thigh, where my keys should be.

I’m such a fucking idiot. 

“What’s wrong?” Baz asks with that bored voice that makes me want to punch him.

Isn’t he supposed to be on his way to go back to whoever he was about to shag?

“I don’t have my keys,” I answer, my frustration showing in my voice.

How could I forget my fucking keys. Olivia sleeps with those things in her ears at night, she wouldn’t hear it if I rang the intercom, and Penny left for America just two days ago. 

“You truly are an imbecile, Snow.”

“Go fuck yourself Baz, okay?” I snap, turning back to him.

I’m angry and I’m sad and I’m frustrated and he’s the reason for _all_ of those fucking emotions and I want to slap him as much as I want to run back into his arms. 

“Get off your high horse,” he says coldly. Then, he takes a few seconds to look at me, clear annoyance in his eyes, before sighing deeply. “You can come at my place if you want.”

**…**

**Baz**

Please say yes.

“Why would I want that?”

That motherfucker. 

“Because it’s the middle of the night and you’re in your pyjamas in the street without a key to go back to your flat? If you’d rather freeze to death I’m not opposed, but I would rather not have your death on my conscience.”

“As if you _had_ a conscience,” he mumbles, but he still walks towards me.

The words are like a punch in the stomach.

I know that’s probably not how Snow means it, but I’ve spent so many years -and sometimes, I still do- thinking I didn’t have a soul, or any of those things that make you human, really, and he _knows_ that.

It hurts more than it should to hear him say he thinks I don’t have a conscience. 

“Shut up and get in the car,” I tell him as I get in the car myself, already putting the keys in the keyhole. 

**…**

**Simon**

We don’t talk while Baz drives me to his place, except for the rude comment he makes about my bare feet being in contact with his car.

When we do get to his place, though, I can feel that he’s letting himself relax a little, taking off some of this armour of cruelty he’s almost always worn when he was with me. 

He asks if I want something to drink and I see the boy I once was in love with in his hesitant smile.

“No, thanks. I just… I can sleep on your couch, right?”

“Unless you fancy sleeping on the floor,” he answers, as he walks back to the front door. “Don’t go in any of the other rooms and don’t steal anything while I’m gone. I have better things to be doing than babysitting you.”

And then he’s leaving.

**…**

**Baz**

I couldn’t bear to stay. Couldn’t bear to see him here, in my flat. I need time to collect myself.

I’ll just listen to his breathing through the door like the creep I am to come back once he’s asleep.

**…**

I’m woken up by loud sobbing coming from the living room. 

Merlin.

He seemed to be sleeping so peacefully when I came back…

I’m out of bed in an instant, rubbing my eyes to wake myself up. It’s 4:48 in the morning, which is _much_ to early to rise so I hope Snow will be able to fall asleep again.

I make sure to make noise when I open the door of my room, so that he knows that I’m coming, and then I’m rushing to the living room. 

He’s sitting on the couch with his head buried in a pillow that he’s holding tightly against him.

“Simon,” I say, startling him.

He jumps out of the couch and runs to me, hugging me for the _second bloody time_ tonight.

It’s going to kill me.

 _He’s_ going to kill me.

“I can’t sleep,” he says, sniffing. 

“Quite obviously,” I answer, but there’s no bite to the words. 

I don’t have it in me to be a prick to him again, not when he’s crying and holding me like that.

Either way, I’m going to get hurt when he leaves in the morning, so I might as well be nice to him. 

I might as well let myself enjoy this.

“I had the same nightmare… you… you were hurt.”

“I’m not hurt, Snow.”

Physically, that is.

“Yeah,” he says, moving back. “I know that. But when I woke up and I was alone, I didn’t.” He looks down at his feet, and I see him bite his lip as his cheeks turn blood red. “I think… maybe if I knew you were here… I could sleep… so… uh… Do you… do you think I could sleep with you? I mean, sleep in your bed!” he corrects himself, his flush spreading to his entire face.

He’s a splendid idiot.

“I know what you mean, Snow,” I say with a chuckle. “Come on.”

I can’t miss out on an occasion like this. It’s my last ever chance to feel Simon Snow’s warm body in my bed. 

He looks a bit surprised that I’d accept, his bloodshot eyes going wide, but he is quick to follow me.

**…**

**Simon**

He still sleeps on the same side of the bed.

I don’t know why, but it makes my heart clench to think about that.

I climb on the other side _-my side-_ and push the covers away. I don’t need them in the summer.

Baz does, of course. He’s always cold. 

He waits for me to be lying down to spell the lights off.

Feeling his magic in the air makes me shiver. It’s so familiar and so foreign at the same time. 

I listen to him shift in bed as I position myself more comfortably too. I end up on my stomach, with my face buried in his pillow.

The smell of cedar and bergamot almost brings tears to my eyes.

Baz’s odour. It has been so long, though I could already smell it faintly when I hugged him.

It’s probably because he sprayed himself with perfume before going out to the club.

The thought turns my stomach.

I don’t know _why_ it bothers me so much that Baz sleeps with strangers, but it _does._

“Baz,” I say before I can stop my mouth.

“What?” he mumbles.

“Did you have fun with your date when you went back to the club after dropping me here?”

I hear him sigh.

“I didn’t go back to the club, Snow.”

“You didn’t?” I ask, my voice showing my relief.

I don’t want to think about why I might be relieved.

“No, I didn’t,” he says, with a loud yawn. He must be exhausted. “Now sleep, love.”

It’s almost impossible to hear, he said it under his breath, probably as he was falling asleep, but I still hear it.

My heart is going to burst.

**…**

**Baz**

My heart is going to burst.

I woke up before Snow so I get to enjoy watching him sleep for a little while.

The slow rise and fall of his broad shoulders. His soft snoring. His messy curls against my pillow.

It’s all so lovely.

I miss when waking up to him was something normal. When it was something that happened on a daily basis.

Now…

Well, now is the last time it happens.

Before I can let sadness overwhelm me, I lean down to shake his shoulder softly. The sun is already high in the sky, he should leave before his _girlfriend_ starts to worry. 

“Snow.”

Nothing.

“Snow. Crowley, Simon, wake up.”

A change in his breathing, then a gasp.

He groans, and I chuckle.

“Come on, wake up, you have to go back home,” I tell him softly, my fingers brushing against his shirt as I take my hand away from him slowly.

He buries his face deeper in my pillow, tightening his hold on it.

“’m’lready home.”


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Baz**

Don’t burst out crying in front of Snow, don’t burst out crying in front of Snow, _don’t burst out crying in front of Snow._

Merlin, he shouldn’t be allowed to say things like that. That bastard. 

It’s just because he’s sleepy and doesn’t know what he’s saying, Baz, no other reason. He has his girlfriend he doesn’t fucking love you anymore.

My pathetic urge to cry quickly turns into irritation. Anger.

I’ve let Simon Snow play with my heart only to crush it already, I’m not letting that happen again. 

I shake his shoulder, more violently this time.

“Get the fuck out of my flat, Snow. The sun is up, you’re done crying like a baby because of your nightmares, so _leave_.”

**…**

**Simon**

Why does he have to be such a fucking arsehole all the time. 

It’s like these wonderful moments when I woke up next to him and kissed him as he was just coming awake never existed.

If they hadn’t left such a mark on me, sometimes I’d doubt they even existed. 

“Fuck off Baz,” I mutter into his pillow.

That’s always what I’ve said when he was insulting me and I had nothing more to say. It’s practically automatic now.

I still push myself up and out of his bed - _his bed_ , I slept in Baz’s bed. It’s his place he can kick me out if he wants. 

“Don’t you have a girlfriend waiting for you anyway?” he asks, looking at me with one of his eyebrows raised up. My stomach drops at the mention of Olivia. “What are you going to tell her? I’m sure she’d _love_ to hear that you slept in your ex’s bed”

I didn’t think about that.

I didn’t think about _her_ since I had my nightmare. Only Baz.

Fucking hell.

“I _won’t_ tell her that.”

**…**

**Baz**

Of course he won’t.

Being Simon Snow’s dirty little secret.

There was a time when I dreamt of that.

I still do.

I dream of having him, any way I can. 

But I can’t.

If there’s one thing my relationship with Snow has taught me, it’s that dreams don’t come true.

**…**

**Simon**

“I still go on jogs in the morning, I’ll just tell her that.”

That’s a believable excuse, if you forget that…

“You don’t even have shoes on,” Baz says, waving at my bare feet, disdain in his voice. 

“Well I’m going to take a pair of yours.”

“You are _not_ going to do that,” he says, but I don’t think he really means it. There’s no aggressiveness in his voice.

“And I’m not walking around London _and_ taking the tube without shoes on, so you can either lend me your fucking shoes or drive me back to my place, your choice.”

It’s not hard figuring out what he’s gonna pick.

He lets out a loud sigh, to really show me that my talking to him is really the worst thing that could ever happen to him -he used to sigh like that on a daily basis- before saying with a dismissive voice. “My shoes are on the cupboard next to the front door. There’s a pair of grey trainers, take those.”

“Thank you,” I say as I start walking out. Despite all my talk, if Baz truly wouldn’t give me shoes, I wouldn’t have taken them -I never stole anything when I lived in care homes, I’m not going to start now- and I couldn’t

force him to drive me back to my place. I stop near the door of his room. “How should I give them back to you?”

“You shouldn’t. The less I see you, the better I feel.”

**…**

**Baz**

That’s not necessarily entirely true but it’s not false either.

Seeing him feels good when it’s happening, because no matter if he’s saying shitty things or holding me like he did last night, he’s _here._

It’s after that I feel like crap. Once he’s gone and I’m once again left alone with my shattered heart and negative thoughts.

And the last bottle of alcohol I own that’s not completely empty. Fuck my therapist and her recommendations about not mixing my meds with alcohol. I’m a vampire, it won’t kill me.

“Alright then,” Snow says shortly, before exiting the room.

I hear him shuffle around my flat, and the moment the front door closes, I’m out of bed, on my way to pour myself a drink. 

Though when I’m standing in front of my kitchen counter, a glass in one hand and whiskey on the other, I pause.

I haven’t had any alcohol since before my attempt. I’ve been able to consistently keep myself from drinking for _months_.

My hand is shaking slightly around the bottle.

It would feel so good to just let the alcohol burn my throat and stop thinking.

But I’ve made so much progress.

I _can’t_ let Simon Snow ruin that. 

But it’s just a drink. It can’t do any harm. I’m not going to start emptying bottle after bottle because I had _one_ drink. 

But it has always been _just one_ . _Just one_ cut to feel another kind of pain became striped arms and pools of blood. _Just one_ bottle when I was feeling low became trips to the bin with as many bottles as I could carry to throw away. _Just one_ bloke’s touch to forget Snow’s became dozens of casual fucks in club bathrooms and rooms where I never stay long. 

One drink now… It could the first of a long series.

_Be stronger than your urges, Baz._

I let go of the glass to recap the bottle.

**…**

**Niall**

Baz, 11:09 am : _Can I come hang out at your place? I’ll bring lunch._

**…**

**Simon**

Fuck, I can’t take the tube I don’t have my card.

Jesus Christ.

I’m really cursed aren’t it?

I’m this close to going back to Baz’s place and begging him to drive me home.

I won’t though. 

The less he sees me, the better he feels, after all.

So instead, I take my phone out to look up the directions to go back home on foot...

It’s going to take a while.

Fucking hell.

**…**

**Baz**

I show up on Dev and Niall’s doorstep with two bags full of Chinese takeaway. 

It’s been a while since the last time the three of us really hung out, as they’ve been taken by their finals, and then proceeded to spend the beginning of their summer holidays freaking out about the wedding. They don’t even have _that_ much planning to do, since the number of guests is quite limited and they’re doing it at one of my family’s estates -to save money- but it’s still quite stressful.

That’s the kind of stress I would sell my soul -if I have one- to be feeling. 

Dev grabs the bags the moment he sees them. “Basil, did I ever tell you I love you?”

I snort. “Are you _that_ hungry?”

 _“Yes,”_ he says, lifting the bags to smell what’s inside.

He practically moans and I feel a smile grow on my face.

I should visit them more often. 

“Baz, thank Merlin!” I hear Niall shout from the living room as I head there with Dev. “He’s been complaining that he was famished for the past 20 minutes. I was very close to murdering him.”

Dev pouts as he sits on the floor next to where Niall is on the couch, headbutting his knee.

“‘s not my fault I’m hungry.”

“You could be hungry in _silence_.”

“Quiet, children,” I say as I snatch the bags from Dev again in order to give everyone their food.

**…**

“So,” I say as I collect the empty food containers and put them back in the bags to throw them later. “How are the wedding preparations going?”

Dev groans loudly and throws his head back against the couch. “If I hear the word wedding one more time I’m going to jump off the window, does that answer your question?”

I choke on my breath. “I see.”

Niall slaps Dev’s shoulder. “It’s really not that bad, stop being dramatic.”

Dev glares at him. “It’s not that bad for _you_ because you like it. _I_ couldn’t care less about all of that bullshit. I just want to marry you, we could simply go and sign the papers for all I care.”

Niall lets out a heavy sigh. I have a feeling this isn’t the first time they have this conversation. 

“Whatever. While we’re on the topic though,” he adds, turning at me with an uneasy look on his face. “You’re not gonna like it, but Simon texted me the other day and asked if he could…” Niall clears his throat.

I’m pretty sure I know what he’s going to say next, but I don’t want to think about it.

“... bring Olivia along.”

Of course.

Of course he’d ask to take his fucking _girlfriend_ to my cousin and my best friend’s wedding. 

Bastard.

I can’t believe I ran to him so easily last night. I should have let him deal with his nightmare on his own.

He has a girlfriend after all, _she_ could have calmed him down and soothed him to sleep.

But of course I didn’t leave him alone. 

Because even if he broke me so much that I was just a lifeless shape, bleeding out on the ground, he’d just have to snap his fingers for me to find a way to crawl right back to him.

I always did.

And I always will.

“And you said yes, I suppose,” I say, my voice flat.

“ _We_ said yes,” Dev answers. “Don’t put the blame all on Niall, I agreed to it.”

That’s unexpected, to say the least. 

He must see the surprise on my face because he adds. “It’s been months, mate. He’s dating someone. He’s not gonna take you back. Maybe if you faced it, you’d finally move on.”

I sneer. “Move on. Good one.”

As if I could ever move on from Simon Snow.

**…**

**Olivia**

I’m starting to be worried.

It’s almost lunchtime and Simon isn’t back from his jog yet. I know that sometimes he runs a bit more so he comes back later, but he’s never come back home past 10... 

I would call him but I don’t want to be the clingy girlfriend who texts you to ask who you are. It didn’t do me any good back when I was with Betty.

He’s an adult, he can come and go without telling me.

That doesn’t mean I can’t worry.

This is a quite unusual behaviour for him. Simon loves his routine, it makes him feel safe, he wouldn’t stray from it except in serious, unexpected circumstances or situations that are worth the change. One of the few times when he actually changed his routine was three days ago when he woke up much earlier than he ever would and didn’t go on his jog because we drove Penny to the airport -she’s going to America to finally be reunited with her long-distance boyfriend, it’s so romantic. 

I glance at the clock again as I stir the pasta in the sauce -I don’t have Simon’s skills in a kitchen, pasta and sauce is already a lot for me. Maybe I could call him. Ask him if he’s coming home for lunch.

That wouldn’t be too weird, right?

I did make food for two, after all. I need to know if I should save him a plate or keep the extra food to eat tonight. 

I turn off the stove to go grab my phone.

As I’m unlocking it, I hear the front door open.

**…**

**Simon**

It smells like tomato in the whole flat. Liv must have made lunch. 

My stomach gurgles at the thought. 

“I’m home babe!” I should as I kick Baz’s shoes off my feet.

I’m bloody cold. Baz is right, even if it’s the summer, it’s _England._ I could have used a cardigan…

Maybe I shouldn’t think about Baz and then about a cardigan. My heart clenches as I remember the one he made me. The one that’s still in my wardrobe, and that I used to hug or wear when I particularly missed him. 

I shake that thought, and head to the kitchen to be with Olivia.

She’s serving pasta on two plates. She welcomes me with a smile, and I smile back, but it’s an embarrassed smile. 

I slept in Baz’s bed.

I don’t know what’s better, tell her not to keep secrets from her, or pretend I wasn’t with him.

I mean, it’s not like Baz and I did anything. I only slept in his bed because I was having nightmares, not because we had sex or something, so it’s not that big of a deal, right?

She gives me my plate and we take our seats around the table.

“What were you doing this morning?” she asks curiously. “I was a bit surprised not to see you sooner.”

Decide quickly, Simon.

I eat a mouthful of pasta to earn myself more time.

“I was feeling like going for a walk so I stopped my jog when I reached the park and stayed there. By the time I checked my phone it was almost lunchtime,” I answer in a way that I hope is convincing enough -Baz always said I’m a terrible liar.

**…**

**Baz**

I’ve been sitting at the bar for at least half an hour, slowly sipping on a sweet cocktail -alcohol free-, and still no trace of Lamb. I wish he’d be here and we could… do things we didn’t do yesterday. 

I catch the bartender’s attention. 

It’s not the same as yesterday, not the bloke I slept with and who served Lamb his blood -I’m still a bit weirded out by that, but the bartender is okay with it, it’s fine I guess. Today, it’s a blonde girl, who I know has an American accent.

In truth, she was already at the bar yesterday, but she simply wasn’t the one who served Lamb and I. 

I’ve ordered from her on most of the nights I’ve come here, she seems to have the most shifts of all the bartenders I’ve seen at the club. 

“Excuse me, do you know where your boss is?”

“Well, he usually comes downstairs around midnight so you can wait here or go to his flat to see him,” the girl answers as she wipes a glass.

I cock an eyebrow. “You would just let me go to his flat like that? Isn’t what’s behind the curtains forbidden to customers?”

She shrugs.

“The boss said if you asked we’d have to let you know you’re free to go. You must have been one hell of a good fuck, he’s only let two or three people do that so far.”

Interesting.

I try not to let my surprise show on my face, both at the fact that she’d talk about Lamb’s sex life and at what she said in general, simply nodding to the bartender and reaching inside my pocket to take my wallet out.

She stops me. “No need for that. The boss said your drinks were on him.”

This time I can’t prevent my eyebrows from shooting up. The bartender just smiles, giving me a discreet wink, before leaving because another customer snapped their fingers at her. 

I take my hand out of my pocket, and head to the large, dark curtains on the other side of the room, wondering what could have possibly driven Lamb to make a decision that is apparently a rare one and give me permission to walk his club as I wish. Maybe he just _really_ wants to fuck me.

I hope it’s that, because I _really_ want him to fuck me.

Nothing better than a good shag to forget the sleeping shape of Simon Snow in my bed. 

I hope Lamb will live up to the expectations I have built solely from his confident behaviour and the sharpness of his eyes.

I climb the four flights of stairs to his floor, and knock on the door without hesitating. If I hesitate I’m going to run away. 

A few seconds later, the door opens on Lamb. He’s wearing a black suit with a white shirt. It’s awfully simple, but it fits him so well -he owns a club, he can surely afford to have his clothes tailored- it’s still splendid.

“Hello, Prince Charles,” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice, to match the gleam in his eyes. 

“Baz. My name is Baz.”

I wasn’t planning on saying it but there’s something inside of me that wants him to know my name, if we’re going to have sex.

If he’s the kind to gasp and moan his partner’s name, I want him to gasp and moan _Baz_ , not that stupid fake name. If he’s not… Well, at least he knows my name.

“Alright then, Baz,” he says, rolling my name on his tongue, as if he was tasting it. He leans against the door frame, letting his eyes travel on my body. “What did you come here for sweetheart?” 

“You know that.”

He looks up at me. “I’m not sure I do,” he says, feigning ignorance.

I’m the one who smiles this time. 

I step closer and closer until our bodies are almost touching, and lean in to whisper in his ear. “I want you to fuck me. As hard as you can. I don’t want to be able to walk tomorrow.”

He grabs one of my hips and pulls me inside the flat, slamming the door shut before pinning me against it.

Merlin and Morgana. 

“Those are dangerous words,” he says, tilting my chin up with his finger. “Are you sure you mean them?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“You might get hurt…”

He has a smirk on his lips when he says it that makes my head spin. 

“You can hurt me. I like it.”

If the way his eyes darken is anything to go by, he likes it too.

He presses a kiss to my cheek, then my jaw, then my neck. He leaves his lips there, and when he next speaks, his voice vibrates against my throat, sending shivers down my spine. “Have you ever had sex with another vampire?”

“What does this have to do with anything?” I ask, genuinely confused.

His face surfaces from under my chin. 

“Well, if you want me to hurt you,” he answers, tightening his grip on my hip. “You have to keep in mind that I _can_ hurt you. _Actually_ hurt you, not like the humans you may already have done this with. I’m as strong as you, sweetheart, possibly stronger.”

Maybe the thought of _actually_ being hurt, as Lamb says, should scare me more than it does.

All I can feel is burning arousal. Because I’m disturbed.

I look back at him, confidence in my voice. “I don’t mind.”

I’m not the only one getting aroused by this. I can feel him harden against me.

“Alright then…” He presses a few other kisses to my jaw before he continues. “Have you ever heard of the traffic lights system?”

“I fear I haven’t.”

“It’s simple, really. Green means you’re fine with what we’re doing and want to continue. Yellow means slow down. Red means stop. If I ask you your colour, I want a truthful answer, and you can obviously say yellow or red whenever you need it. I find this better than having a safeword, because of the yellow, but if you wish, you can have a safeword too.”

I hum, feeling excitement rise inside me. I wonder what he’s going to do to me. “Green. Yellow. Red. It does seem simple enough.”

“I’m glad you think so. Now, one last thing before we get to the fun part. Do you have any limits? Things you know you don’t like? Don’t worry, I won’t go too hard on you tonight, but I’d still like to know,” he asks, a softness to his voice, like he truly cares.

I know it’s probably just basic decency, but him taking all of these precautions makes me feel some type of way. I haven’t always been shown basic decency, before. 

The answer to Lamb’s question seems obvious enough.

“Not being able to see. I don’t want to be blindfolded. You can fuck me in any position you want, but don’t push my head down in a way that prevents me from seeing you. That’s the only thing I can think of at the moment,” I answer seriously. Then, I use a more playful, falsely innocent voice. “Can we get to the fun part now, Lamb?”

He steps back and his eyes are so dark my knees might give out. I have a feeling _the fun part_ is going to be really, really, _really_ fun. 

He grabs my chin between his thumb and index finger, looking at me expectantly as he pulls down.

I get the hint, and sink to my knees. I sit on my heels, hands on my thighs, and look up at him. 

He gives me a dangerous smile that makes my cock twitch.

“It will be ‘Sir’ for you, sweetheart.”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lamb and Baz get a whole chapter to themselves 
> 
> or
> 
> gratuitous vampire sex, the chapter
> 
> ———————————
> 
> “I tell you what a woman loves most  
> It's a man who can slap but can also stroke”  
> — Verbatim, Mother Mother

**Baz**

I don’t think I’ve ever been fucked so well in my entire life. I don’t know if it’s the fact that he is as strong as me -no, _stronger_ than me- or the fact that I was more attracted to him than I was to most of the men I fucked, or the fact that he did _much more_ than thrusting up my arse and wanking me a bit, but it was mind blowing.

And it lasted _so long._ I thought the foreplay was going to kill me. There was even a terrifying moment when I thought he wouldn’t fuck me _at all._

By the time he _finally_ gave me his cock, I didn’t remember any words other than “Please” and “Sir”, which, looking back, must have been the whole point. 

I don’t usually sleep with someone more than once, but I think I’ll have to make an exception for Lamb if he wants us to have sex again as well. 

He probably won’t, though. We haven’t really _talked_ but I know he must have been walking this earth for a long time, he must have had tons and tons of incredible lovers and I’m nothing if inexperienced when it comes to the kind of sex we just had.

Snow and I did have some fun with ties and blows but it wasn’t anything like with Lamb.

He _really_ knew what he was doing, and it was pretty intense, despite him telling me that he wouldn’t go too hard on me. Fuck, I really wish to know what he’d do if he _went hard on me._

I’m starting to daydream about what that may mean when he comes back in the room. I was so far gone I barely noticed he left. 

What I do notice, and with great pleasure, is that he hasn’t put clothes back on except for pants. 

He has a small bowl as well as a towel in one hand, and a tray with a glass of water and something else that I can’t quite see from where I’m lying down. 

Just for the glass of water, I could fall on my knees and kiss his feet. Well, not right now. I’d probably fall on my face. But if my body was working normally I might have.

He puts the tray down on the bed, and the bowl and towel on the floor before turning to me. 

“Are you back with me?” he asks.

The tone of his voice sounds like what having your hair patted feels like. I don’t know where this is coming from but that’s the impression I’m getting.

I nod. I’m not entirely certain I could speak. My throat is so dry. That glass of water is so tempting. 

As if he read my mind, Lamb says, “The drink is for you sweetheart, don’t worry. Can you sit up on your own or are you too sore still?”

I don’t miss the hint of smugness in his voice when he says that. 

I honestly can’t blame him for being a little full of himself right now.

“I might need some assistance,” I admit shyly.

My cheeks would be burning if they could, but my whole body feels like jelly, I really couldn’t push myself up on my own. 

“Alright,” Lamb says as he slides one of his arms behind my shoulder, holding me under my armpit to help me up. 

Once I’m in a decent enough position to drink without choking, he takes the glass and brings it to my lips, his other arm still wrapped around my shoulders. 

The water was really much needed. I don’t think I’ve ever been this thirsty -for water- in my entire life. 

The temperature in Lamb’s flat certainly didn’t help my dehydration. As much as it must be quite enjoyable in regular living situations, that vampire friendly heat becomes a bit too much when coupled with the heat of sex. 

When I finish the glass, he puts it back on the tray before taking the other thing that’s on it. It’s not a thing, it’s two things. Granola bars. One with nuts and chocolate, the other with dried fruits. 

He opens the first one with his teeth, which shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

“You have to eat a little, Baz. Open up,” he says as he breaks the granola bar in three pieces with one hand, before bringing one of the pieces to my lips as gently as he did the glass. 

I’m so sensitive right now it could make me cry. I’m not used to being handled with such care by a lover anymore. 

For the first time since I started fucking around, I feel some of what I felt when Snow fucked me. I feel cherished. I feel like I’m something precious.

I let Lamb feed me -I’ll probably be well humiliated about the whole thing later but right now I simply enjoy it- and lay me down carefully once both granola bars are gone. 

That’s when he reaches for the bowl and towel. 

I only notice that there’s another towel on the bowl, a wet one, when he takes it out of it. 

I’m a bit puzzled as to what he’s doing with that, and right as I’m about to ask, I feel something warm and wet on my stomach.

Oh.

He’s cleaning me up.

That’s it, I’m going to cry.

Fuck, I get too emotional after sex, it’s ridiculous.

He pauses, when he sees tears on my cheeks I suppose. It’s a miracle he even noticed them, lost in the tear tracks I got from tears shed earlier that night. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” I answer weakly. “It’s just… You’re taking care of me.”

His eyes soften.

“Oh, Baz. Of course I am.” He reaches out and rest his hand on my jaw, stroking my cheek. It feels safe. “Being rough to you when we fuck wouldn’t feel as good as it does if I didn’t get to treat you well afterwards.”

He said when we _fuck_ not when we _fucked_ , that must mean he would be down for it to happen again, right? That it’s not just a thing in the past?

I ignore that for now. I’ll just come back to the club in a day or two and see if he wants me. 

“I’d say you were already treating me pretty well when we were fucking, even if you were rough,” I answer, a dreamy smile growing on my lips.

He makes his face turn cold.

“No I didn’t, because you don’t deserve to be treated well, you disgusting slut.”

It sounds so different than when he said something similar, earlier, because of the glint of amusement in his eyes. He’s not in character anymore, we’re just having fun.

I look back at him, with the same amusement in my eyes, and we burst out laughing. 

**…**

I slept in Lamb’s bed that night.

It’s highly unusual for me, I always leave when I and the bloke I picked for the night are done, but with Lamb… 

Well let’s just say I don’t think I would have been physically able to walk the way back to my flat, and I live five minutes away from the club.

Hell, I don’t think I could have gone down the stairs.

And honestly, I didn’t want to go. I felt comfortable with him. 

So I stayed.

But now I’m back at my flat, on my way to take a much needed shower. He used a towel on me to wipe the come off my stomach last night, but I still feel a bit gross. 

As I take my shirt off, I notice something in the mirror that makes my eyes go wide.

I have bruises.

I never bruised before. It was always Snow’s biggest complaint.

And yet here I am, with marks all over me. Red marks in the shape of his fingers that dug in the flesh of my hips _hard._ Other marks on my arms, specifically my wrists and biceps. Love bites on my chest and neck.

Fuck, it’s a good thing I didn’t see myself in a mirror at Lamb’s place. I’d have begged him to mark me more.

It’s so hot. 

I make quick work of showering after that, not even taking the time to dry myself to take my phone, calling Niall’s number. I need to gush over Lamb.

“Hello?” 

“Hey, Niall. Are you busy right now or can we chat for a bit?” I ask, and he can probably already hear the excitement in my voice.

“I’m not busy.”

“And is Dev with you?”

“Where do you want him to be, he’s lost without me.”

“So lost, baby,” I hear Dev say.

I laugh. 

“Put me on speaker then please,” I tell Niall.

I always planned on taking my revenge on Dev for talking to me about his sex life when my cousin shagging my best friend was probably the last thing I wanted to hear about. I think telling Niall all about the sex I had with Lamb while Dev can hear it is the perfect revenge. 

“Done,” Niall says. “Now, what are you so excited about?”

“Niall, I got fucked _so well_ last night…”

“Fucking hell, Basilton I’m eating!” Dev shouts. 

**…**

**Lamb**

“What is a pretty boy like you doing all alone?” I ask as I slide in the space between Baz’s stool and another stool. 

“Lamb, what a surprise,” he says with a satisfied smile on his lips, not surprised at all.

He was waiting for me to come. I know he was. I’ve watched him. He turned down the few men -and women, how delusional can they be- who approached him. 

“I was just thinking that I could use a drink,” he says, trailing his finger around the brim of his glass.

It’s almost full.

I smile. 

I see.

I snap my fingers and almost immediately, Jessica is in front of me. “What can I serve you?”

“Two bloody marys, the way I like them.”

Her pupils go wide. She knows what it means. 

She gives me some of her blood now, and later tonight, when her shift ends, she gets a bite. 

I can practically see her quiver with anticipation at the thought of the bite already. 

“I’m not drinking a bloody mary the way you like it,” Baz says, but he lacks conviction.

“Yes you are. Jessica here would be quite offended if you refused a drink she poured so much of herself into. Besides… In case you don’t know… This kind of treats _and_ arousal mix particularly well together. I intend on making you see stars tonight honey,” I tell him with a smirk full of promises as Jessica puts down two glasses in front of us. 

**…**

**Baz**

My head is between Lamb’s thighs and I think I might die.

He says those sinful things and makes those indecent noises when I suck him off that go straight to my cock. I’m moaning around his like crazy, drawing even _more_ praises and sounds out of him.

On top of that, I can feel the friction of the rope around my wrists, burning when I wriggle too much.

It’s fucking glorious.

His hands are clenched around his knees and it makes the whole thing so much hotter. I know he’s trying his hardest not to put them in my hair because he knows I don’t want my hands bound _and_ my hair pulled at the same time when I’m blowing him and he _respects_ that.

His hips jerk up and I smile around his cock. I’m making him feel good. I love making him feel good. 

It seems so crazy to think that _I_ could make a man who has had hundreds -maybe thousands, for all I know- of lovers fall apart. 

“Baby… Oh my god you’re so good with that mouth of yours… _Fuck_ , yeah sweetheart, like that, you’re doing amazing… it’s like you were made for this darling… you feel so good, love.”

_Darling._

_You feel so good._

_Darling._

_Merlin, you were born for this._

_Darling._

I throw my head back, tears springing to my eyes.

“Red! Red, Lamb, R—”

I stop.

I called him Lamb. I’m not allowed to when we have sex. He’s going to be mad at me. 

I feel his hands cupping my face and I can almost already hear him ask me to look at him. I don’t want to. I don’t want to see how disappointed he is in me. 

And still this word ringing in my head, in a voice so different from his, making my heart beat too fast.

_Darling, darling, darling._

“Baz, Baz can you hear me?”

He sounds worried. Why would he be worried? I was bad, I disobeyed. 

I nod nonetheless. I can’t make him even more disappointed by not responding. 

“Thank God. Baz, take a few deep breaths for me, okay?”

I do. It helps with the pounding of my heart. I can feel his thumbs rubbing my cheeks the whole time.

Once my heart is back to its normal rhythm, I blink a few times while moving my arms to feel the rope. That, and Lamb’s hands on my jaw, it grounds me. 

I look back at him. 

He’s gotten down on the floor with me, practically crushed between my body and the couch. 

“Good boy,” he congratulates me as he leans in to kiss my forehead. 

I don’t deserve to be called that. I said his name when I’m not supposed to, and I stopped blowing him before he even came. I _haven’t_ been good.

“Shouldn’t you be angry with me?”

He looks at me like this is the maddest thing he’s ever heard.

“Why on earth would I be angry with you.”

I tell him why, and he brings his lips on mine, kissing me sweetly. My heart flutters. 

I kissed some of the blokes I fucked, but it had nothing to do with how Lamb kisses me sometimes. He doesn’t only do it when we’re fucking, for one, and he does it so unhurriedly. Just because he wants to be kissing me, not necessarily to get me in the mood. 

“You did nothing wrong, Baz,” he says when we break apart. “You called my name because you were panicking, I know you didn’t mean to disobey. I’m not going to punish you for that, there’s nothing to punish you for. I’m not disappointed in you, I promise. On the contrary, I’m proud of you for using the safeword. You did great, Baz. You were perfect for me, as you always are,” he says, his voice full of a tenderness I’m not sure I deserve.

His hands let go of my jaw, only so that he can wrap his arms around me. I bury my face against his neck. He doesn’t smell of anything ; vampires don’t have a natural scent and his cologne must have faded. 

“Can you tell me why you needed to stop?” he asks, rubbing soothing circles between my shoulder blades.

I suppose this conversation would have happened at some point. I’m honestly surprised we managed to go two weeks shagging almost every day without something triggering me before. 

I take a deep breath. “When I was in high school, I had an… unpleasant experience blowing someone. He called me ‘darling’, so hearing you call me that as I was sucking you off…”

**…**

**Lamb**

_An unpleasant experience._

I’d like to meet the bloke who made Baz have this _unpleasant experience..._

**…**

**Baz**

“I’m sorry.”

I don’t know if he’s saying sorry for calling me darling or if it’s the kind of sorry that people tell you when you tell them something they deem sad about yourself. Either way, I don’t like it. I hate when people pity me or treat me like I’m weak.

“It’s alright. Just don’t call me darling anymore and it should be fine.”

“Okay,” he whispers, his lips lost in my hair as he kisses the top of my head.

**...**

When it comes to sex, I have decided that Lamb’s word was gospel. He’s _never_ wrong about anything.

When he made me drink blood - _human_ blood, holy fuck- before we had sex, the sex was mind blowing. 

Every time he did something, or asked me to do a certain thing, promising it’d feel great, it felt great, even the things I was most doubtful about.

Still, I’m not sure about what he just proposed.

“You want to _bite_ me? We’re both vampires. How could that be any good?”

I’m surprised I can manage such a long sentence. I feel like my entire body is on fire, burning with desire, burning for him. 

Except for my face. 

My cheeks are wet and my eyes are blurry.

He pushes himself up from where he was lying on top of me to sit on his heels. 

How does he expect me to _talk_ when his cock is on full display like that. It isn’t fair. 

It’s particularly cruel because he knows how much I want it. I’ve been begging for it for a solid half hour now, and he still _won’t_ fuck me. 

“Believe me love, it feels amazing,” he says. “If you’re not comfortable, you could bite me first, but I would love to bite you. I want to make you feel so good, Baz…” 

He leans down again, his face hovering over mine. I want to reach up and kiss him but he hasn’t given me permission to move and I don’t want to get in trouble.

He might decide he won’t fuck me if I don’t obey and I _can’t_ have that right now.

My brain stops working when he says, with that charming voice of his, his eyes boring into mine, “I want to fill you up with my cock and my fangs. I want to be inside you completely.”

Ok, so the bite might actually _not_ be a bad idea.

**…**

**Lamb**

He shivers underneath me.

Good.

I’m sure he’ll love it, I’d hate for him to miss out on that when it could make him feel so good.

“I… I want to try. But can you start fucking me before you bite me, please Sir?” he asks, looking down.

He’s so perfect. 

“How could I keep denying anything you when you ask so nicely,” I answer, pushing myself back on my knees, sitting between his spread legs. 

He looks even more beautiful from here, his thighs, stomach and arms covered in bruises and love bites, his wrist bound together over his head, his eyes shiny and his cheeks wet, his cock dripping precome. 

I lock eyes with him as I take the plug out of his arse slowly. Very slowly. So slowly that his eyes turn plaintive. 

“Please, Sir, please I need you, I need you now.”

“Shut up. Do you really think I care what you need?”

I squeeze his thigh hard with my free hand. He squirms, letting out a heavy breath. 

“I don’t want to hear you make a sound until my cock is inside you. If you do, I won’t fuck you.”

His eyes go wide, fear flashing in them.

I smile. He looks so stunning when he’s wanting and desperate like that. Like not getting fucked right now would be the worst thing that could ever happen to him. 

I finally finish taking the plug out, throwing it somewhere on the bed, and his hole twitches.

I almost bend down to start licking it, but I want to be inside him as much as he wants me to be inside him, so instead, I quickly coat my cock in lube, line myself up with his hole, and push inside in one swift motion. He’s a bit stretched from the plug, but still so tight. It’s exquisite. 

He throws his head back in a silent moan and my hands grab his hips, with the firm intention of keeping him in place as I pound into him again, and again, and again. 

**…**

**Baz**

It’s good.

It’s so good.

It’s almost too good.

It’s always almost too good with Lamb. 

“Colour,” I hear him breath out in between moans.

“Green, so, so, green.”

“Give me your colour again in a few seconds,” he pants, keeping up his punishing pace.

I wonder why he’d want my colour again so soon when I feel a sharp pain in my neck.

I gasp when I realize. It’s his fangs. He’s biting me.

I’m about to say ‘yellow’ when the feeling in my neck completely changes.

“Green.”

It spreads to my whole body, and it’s like a fire consuming me. I feel like my nerves are exposed, I feel every touch in my core. 

I’ve never been this sensitive before, and it’s good, it’s so good.

Lamb’s thrusts are almost too good to take.

He hits my prostate and I think I’m going to die from all the pleasure. 

Instead, I come harder than I ever have.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Baz**

The first time Lamb takes me to the first floor, it’s like a whole new world is unveiled to me.

“Remember sweetheart,” he tells me, his hand firm and comforting on the small of my back. “The humans are the ones coming here begging to be bitten. _You_ could find blood anywhere else. _They_ rely on this place. You’re in control. I don’t think they’ll be an inconvenience to you, but they can get very clingy when they’re aching for a bite. If they become too clingy, come to me. They shouldn’t, they know to stay in their place, but you’re young, and it shows. They might see you as an easier target for their flirtation. It’s more delicate when it comes to the other vampires. I try to control who my clientele is made of, but I can’t be 100% sure each person in this room is as respectable as I believe them to be, and my security has flaws, sometimes. Don’t let your guard down, just like you would downstairs. But once again, if someone causes you trouble, come to me. I’ll try to stay with you as long as I can but I do have some talks to partake in with various people so I won’t be able to be with you at all times.”

All those recommendations don’t really faze me. With all the time I spend at the club, strangers invading my personal space and touching me without asking first has become sadly usual. I don’t see how it could be worse here, except for the fact that a vampire could hurt me in a way even the strongest of Normals never could, but I don’t think someone will actively try to harm me, especially considering that Lamb will be by my side at first, before he strays to have his talks. 

I nod nonetheless. “I’ll come to you if need be.”

His hand slides to hold my hip. “Good. One last thing, if you decide to treat yourself to some blood and I’m not with you, go see Fred, the man at the bar. He knows the regulars, he’ll be able to help you find someone who knows when to ask you to stop drinking. You’ve trained well on me,” he says with a lustful voice that brings me back to those nights when I sank my fangs in his flesh. “But you’re not so experienced. You could use some guidance. Moreover, don’t ever bite more than three different people. Mixing blood is like mixing alcohol, it’s generally not the kindest thing you can do to your body.”

Once again, I nod. I should probably be more bothered by Lamb’s little rant, I don’t like it when people baby me like that, as if I’m too stupid to think about such obvious things on my own, but when it’s Lamb… It doesn’t sound like he thinks I’m stupid. He’s looking out for me, and it’s probably the thing I like the most about Lamb.

He makes me feel safe and cared for in a way no one else has. It’s obviously different from the way my family -Daphne, really, Fiona doesn’t make me feel safe, this woman is even more careless than me, and my father still isn’t great at making me feel cared for- makes me feel those things, but it’s also different from the way Snow used to make me feel those things. Everything with him was always like being taken by a storm. Even safety with Snow was nerve racking, because I knew that feeling could be gone in a second. That something terrible could happen soon, because problems were attracted to this disaster of a man like moths to a flame. 

With Lamb it’s quieter. 

It’s peace, when Snow was always chaos. 

I think I love both equally. 

He gives me one last glance, squeezing my hip, before pushing the doors open.

**…**

**Lamb**

I’m still not completely sure taking Baz here was a good idea, but he wanted to and he seems to be having fun.

He’s so young still… 

It was obvious to me when I met him that he was still not old enough to have outlived what his life span would have been if he wasn’t turned, but I didn’t think he was as young as he looked. You don’t often see new people, we tend to turn humans less and less ; it’s better for both our comfort and safety, so I’m not so used to being around vampires who aren’t at the very least a few decades old -though most of my acquaintances are hundreds of years old. 

I’m nervous that his youth, and the naive innocence that comes with it, might attract the wrong people. 

So I keep my eyes on him all night, making sure no one’s bothering him.

I smile when a girl probably as old as him tries to seduce him into biting her. Poor little thing. I’m afraid showing off her breasts won’t earn her anything. Eventually, she gives up, and I see Baz sigh in relief. He’s so endearing.

His eyes travel the room, and when they meet mine, he smiles before looking at me, a question in his eyes. I nod and he heads towards me.

“Is that your new pet?” Tatiana asks, looking back and forth between Baz and I with a gleam in her eyes.

She takes a puff of her cigarette as I give her a smirk for all answer. 

She chuckles, and looks back at Baz, her eyes scanning him.

“Pretty face. I can see the appeal. He seems young, though, don’t you usually prefer more experienced people?”

“If you could see the look on his face when I make him try something he hasn’t before, you would see the appeal of his lack of experience as well as that of his appearance…”

**…**

**Baz**

Lamb is chatting with a woman when I walk up to him. She looks in her twenties, but I don’t let that fool me. Her face may appear young, but I know she isn’t. She has this same aura of wisdom only age would bring you as Lamb and some other vampires in the room. 

However, if there’s one thing different about her, it’s her skin. All the vampires I’ve met so far were extremely pale like myself, so I assumed everyone’s skin turned pale when they became a vampire, but hers is dark and ashen. This grey-ish tint is what truly shows her undeadness, like for all of us. 

I suppose her skin must have been a rich brown colour when she was still alive.

She glances at me in a way that makes me feel like I’m her prey. I can’t say I like it. 

“Baz, dear,” Lamb says, looking up at me. “Let me introduce you to Tatiana. She’s an old friend of mine.”

“Pleased to meet you,” I say with a flat voice.

Tatiana’s smile is as dangerous as her gaze.

“The pleasure is mine. It’s been a long time since Lamb last introduced me to one of his little toys,” she says, her voice sweet but dripping with venom.

If it was Lamb calling me his toy, I’d probably like it. In that woman’s mouth, it only irritates me.

Lamb must perceive that, because I feel his fingers wrap around my wrist, tightening around it before letting go. “Did you want something?” he asks me.

“I’d like to leave. I was wondering if I should go back to my flat or…”

Please don’t tell me to leave. 

“Would you mind waiting for me in my room?” he answers. I try not to show my relief. I could use some time alone with Lamb right now. Being here, with all those vampires around, made me so incredibly tense, and the Normals trying to get me to bite them didn’t make things any better. 

I shake my head. _Of course_ I wouldn’t mind.

“I’ll be here shortly, then. Make yourself at ease.”

**…**

Once I reach Lamb’s flat, I start stripping. He hasn’t specifically asked me to do that, I know that his ‘ _Make yourself at ease’_ was truly an invitation to do whatever I was comfortable with. If he showed up and I was sitting on his couch watching the tv, he’d roll with that. 

But that’s not what I want.

I’m tense, and on edge, and I need him to make me relax and take my mind off things.

Off _Snow._

Those Normals wanting me to bite them… it reminded me that _he_ was the only mortal I’ve ever bitten and then memories started torturing me again, like they often do. My heart is heavy, but I know Lamb can make me feel better. It wouldn’t be the first time I need his assistance to stop thinking.

I fold my clothes and carefully lay them on the coffee table. It’s partly because, when possible, I like not making a mess of my clothes, but it’s especially so that it should be the first thing he sees when he walks in. 

I then head to his room, and kneel by his bed. It’s not uncomfortable right now, the rug is soft, but it will be if I stay here too long. It’s the point. I could simply wait for Lamb by sitting on the bed or couch, and only get down on my knees when I hear him come back, but just being in that position helps release some of the tension. I can take time to collect myself, and the ache I’ll soon start feeling in my thighs and knees will just be one more thing to focus on other than the things I don’t want to be thinking about.

I discovered how feeling a pressure or an ache grounds me thanks to the ropes we sometimes use. When I feel my mind drift in bad places, I move so that I can feel the burn of the ropes against my skin. That feeling was intensified when once, I wasn’t in the best of mental place when we started fucking so Lamb’s treatment, instead of feeling good like it always does, made me uneasy. When he realized, he held me with his hand behind my neck, pressing on it in the right places. Not enough to choke me, but enough to clear my mind and be a comfort. 

I wish he could have done that when we were at the part of the club with the vampires, and asking him to put his hand on my neck was what I originally had in mind, just to take the edge off and be able to stay longer and to be reminded that Lamb could take care of me if I needed, until I realized he was with someone who made me more uncomfortable than I already was.

I shake my head. The whole point is not to think about upsetting things.

**…**

**Lamb**

He’s so perfect. 

I knew entering my room would be an interesting moment since I saw his clothes neatly folded on the coffee table, but I wasn’t expecting such a sight. He’s on his knees, his hands flat on his thighs, back straight, head down and eyes closed. 

His chest moves slowly as he breathes. It’s mesmerizing. I have half a mind to take my phone out and photograph him, to keep this beautiful picture he makes somewhere else than in my memory, but I also have a bad feeling about this. He was hiding it well, but he seemed troubled when he told me he wanted to go, and he’s never knelt like that on his own accord before. 

So instead of wasting time taking a picture, I walk up to him. I know he’s heard me come in, but he’s staying particularly stoic. His lips didn’t even twitch when I came closer.

I stop with the tip of my shoes practically touching his knees. “Hello, sweetheart.”

“Sir.”

“Look at me.”

His grey eyes open and he raises his head until our eyes meet. 

“What’s wrong, Baz?”

Surprise flashes in his eyes, and he looks away for a second.

I _knew_ there was something.

“Nothing. I simply want you.”

“No you don’t. Don’t lie to me. Stand up,” I order as I turn around.

I cross the room to take hold of a silk robe that’s been on the back of a chair for far too long, and when I come back close to him, I see that he’s obeyed but that he looks confused. 

I slide the soft material over his arms, tying the string around his waist to cover him up. Then, I sit on the bed, patting the empty space next to me for him to join me. Once he’s sitting too, I reiterate my question. “What’s wrong?”

He sighs, looking down. I see him starting to fidget with the belt of the robe as he answers. “I wasn’t comfortable. The other vampires looked at me like I was as much of a prey as the humans, and the humans’ advances could be a bit stifling. But the real problem is… Being there made me think of my ex. He’s… He’s the only human I’ve ever bitten, so I was reminded of him and I… Let’s say the break up wasn’t easy.”

He laughs nervously, turning his head to the side slightly, as if he were trying to shield himself from view. 

“You still love him, is what you mean,” I say.

Thinking of his ex wouldn’t trouble him so much if he had moved on. That could also explain all the sleeping around he’s been doing. Now that I’ve spent some time with him, I can see that he doesn’t seem like the type to truly enjoy casual fucks.

It’s just to fill a void without risking getting heartbroken again, I suppose. 

There’s a faint pink tint on his cheek that answers the question better than words could.

“Yes,” he admits. 

“It’s alright. Break ups are difficult. Especially when you’re young.”

I thought a break up would kill me too, when I was his age. Now I’ve accepted that you lose much more people than you keep. 

“Shouldn’t that bother you even a little bit, that I love someone?” he asks, dubious.

I laugh softly.

“God, sweetheart, no. If anything, that’s better. I know you’re not likely to catch feelings for me if you already love someone.”

He turns his head back to me, a playful smile on his face.

“Would it be so terrible if I fell in love with you?”

“A tragedy,” I answer, trailing my finger up and down his arm.

**…**

**Baz**

The most unusual thing about my relationship with Lamb compared to with the other men I’ve shagged, on top of the fact that I keep going back to him to fuck, is that we spend time together outside of bed too.

Admittedly we spend a lot of time _in_ bed -cancelling Oxford might not have been that bad of an impulse decision, all of this would have had to stop in September if I went to uni- but that’s not all we do. 

We simply stay at the club sometimes, drinking and dancing together under the surprised gazes of his employees -one of them, Jordan, told me that he’d been working here for three years and it was the first time he saw Lamb spend more than one or two nights with the same person, it really boosted my ego. 

We go eat something in the city, when he texts me long before the club opens, asking me to come join him. 

We wander around the block when he insists on walking me home, taking an hour to get there instead of 5 minutes, talking about insignificant things. 

We go to his flat, but instead of fucking, we tangle ourselves in his big fancy couch, chatting bathed in moonlight. 

It’s amazing.

Going to the club and seeing Lamb has become my favourite thing to do, and something I look forward to, because I know that whether our time together ends with me naked and panting on his bed or not, I’ll enjoy myself. There’s nothing complicated with Lamb. No impossible expectations. He never takes more than I can give, and he gives so much more than he takes. He doesn’t get upset when I refuse something -which is a rather rare occurrence, I must say. 

I didn’t think I’d get to have that. After Snow left me, I thought that I could never have more than casual fucks with faceless men, because I don’t want to get attached -though I could never love someone else like I love Snow- and be hurt again. But the thing is… I’m not getting attached to Lamb. 

Not in that way, at least. I don’t have _romantic_ feelings, but I do have strong feelings for him. He’s someone I like hanging out with. He’s someone I like having sex with. But I wouldn’t be heartbroken if we stopped having sex and simply remained friends. I’m not jealous or sad when I think of him fucking other people -I don’t believe he’s only sleeping with me, despite what I’ve heard some of the bartenders say. 

It’s all the good parts of being in a relationship without the bad parts. 

I would like it to be a relationship, though… _Boyfriend_ has a nicer ring to it than _random bloke I have sex with._

It would be more proper to introduce him to my parents’ at Dev and Niall’s wedding…

Well, that’s if he agrees to come with me at Dev and Niall’s wedding. 

“Lamb, can I ask you something?” 

“Hm?”

He glances down at me. He’s working at his desk, so, naturally, I’m sitting on the floor next to him. I could go on the couch, sure, but then I wouldn’t feel his hand stroking my hair and that would be an incredible loss. 

“Are we dating?”

He lets go of his pen, and looks at me again, but he keeps his eyes on me this time. 

“Why on earth would you think that?”

“Well, you have to admit that it looks like we do. We hang out a lot, we went to a few restaurants together, I’ve practically moved in here, and we fuck _quite often._ ”

“I don’t date,” is the only answer he gives me. 

I move so that my head isn’t on his thigh anymore and I can really look at him. His hand falls out of my hair.

“Because you don’t want someone to fall in love with you, yes, but you know I won’t. I’m still in love with my ex.”

Lamb frowns. “Baz. Do you _want_ us to be dating?”

Heat rises to my cheeks. I’ve been feeding more since the bartenders here _very selflessly_ started offering me bloody marys, as long as I told Lamb whose blood I had drunk.

“It wouldn’t change anything, you could still fuck other people and I wouldn’t impose myself on you when you don’t want me around, but… I’d like to think of you as my boyfriend.”

I sound like a schoolgirl having a crush, I’m well aware of that.

Lamb seems weirded out, but also endeared. 

“Baz, you do know that I’m not fucking anyone else, right?”

**…**

**Lamb**

From the look on his face, I’d say he doesn’t.

Jesus Christ, this boy. 

“You’re not?” he asks, trying to hide his shock despite it being written all over his face. 

“Of course I’m not. Why would I when I have you?” I say as I lean down, taking his chin between my fingers to tilt his head up more.

I press my lips against his and feel a smile spreading on them. 

“Is it really important to you, to define our relationship that way?” I ask when I pull back.

I wouldn’t mind it _so much_ if Baz insisted on us dating. I don’t really have any desire to see someone else at the moment, but I haven’t been someone’s _boyfriend_ in decades, and putting such a name on a relationship seems unnecessary to me. It matters not what we call it, only what we do.

But Baz is a really sweet bloke and I wouldn’t want to upset him over something so simple, not when he gives me so much, so if he wants it…

He nods. “Yes, it is.”

“Then it’s alright. You can call me your boyfriend if you wish. Just remember not to fall in love with me,” I tease him, pushing his hair back and away from his face.

He laughs. “I won’t, I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> side note ; i’m not SAYING that snowbaz’s reunion now that they both are with someone else is coming soon but,,, unless i change my mind,,, there’s only one chapter before dev and niall’s wedding,,,


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so random but I changed the name of one of Baz’s sisters because I thought it fit better with the others, so now Acantha (the littlest girl) is Octavia  
> (thanks for the name 6643904379cS ;) )

**Simon**

“Penelope, you are solemnly invited to my funerals.”

She rolls her eyes at me. 

“You are _not_ going to die, Simon. Besides, it’s totally on you. You’ve been dating Olivia for a while now, you should have told her already.”

The video glitches a little when she says that, which I’m going to assume is a sign that she’s wrong and not just proof that my -or her, definitely her- data isn’t working well. 

“It’s delicate, Pen! I can’t just… go and tell her.”

“That’s what I did with Shepard.”

_Shepard._

Her new American friend -I’d say boyfriend but that hasn’t been confirmed.

Turns out that Micah was a huge douchebag who was fucking another girl because he thought he had made it clear to Penny that they weren’t together anymore. She was so sad when she told me, and then, a few days later, she started talking to me about this bloke she met. She’s been talking about him more and more over the past few weeks, and she gets all excited when she tells me what they’ve been together so I think she’s got a bit of a crush, though she won’t admit that. 

“Yes but you’re… _you_ . You’re _actually_ a mage, you couldn’t have hidden it for a long time anyway.”

She sighs. “Simon, how many times…”

“Yes, yes, I know you think I’m still a mage even if I don’t have my magic and all that, whatever. My point is, I _don’t_ use magic so hiding it from Olivia was easy and honestly I’m kind of enjoying not being seen as a freak by _one_ person in my life. Once I’ll tell her all about magic… Who knows, she’ll probably think I’m mad and dump me.”

With Olivia I can be _normal._ I’ve wanted that pretty much my whole life. 

It’ll be ruined once I tell her that I used to be a mage, that all of my friends and acquaintances except her are mages, and that everyone at Dev and Niall’s wedding will be a mage. 

Maybe Penny is right and I should have told her sooner, but you’re not supposed to tell Normals that magic exists and I truly didn’t see the point anyway…

“Well, of course it’s going to be a shock for her, but you should have thought about that _before_ getting in a relationship with a Normal, Simon. However it might not be as bad as you think. You can’t know unless you do it,” she says, in a way that really means, ‘Get your arse off the couch and go tell your girlfriend you’re a mage, Simon’.

I’m the one who sighs this time.

**…**

I went to my flat to call Penny, because I obviously didn’t want Liv to eavesdrop, but now I’m back at hers and I’m stalling. I _really_ don’t want to be doing this. But the wedding is in a few days and I think she should have some time to come to terms with the whole ‘magic is real’ thing before she’s faced with mages. 

And a vampire.

Bloody hell, I hope Baz will be as good at hiding it as he’s always been because I don’t want to have to tell Olivia about vampires. Especially considering she knows I’ve dated Baz… 

“Liv, I need to tell you something,” I say, craning my neck to look at her. 

She looks up from her sewing machine. Maybe I should have waited until she was done doing whatever she’s doing. “What?”

“Can you come here, please?”

“Yeah, sure. Just wait a minute.”

I hear the sound of the needle going through the fabric repeatedly and quickly, and then it stops. She takes the dress, and go put it on her mannequin before joining me on the couch. 

“So? What is it?” she asks, playing with the cord of her pyjamas shorts. 

I clear my throat. Fuck it’s so difficult. Why did I date a Normal? Why didn’t I tell her before?

“Before I start, I know that what I’m going to say seems really crazy and that you will probably think I’m taking the piss out of you, but I’m really not. It’s completely true.”

She frowns. “Simon, what is it? You’re scaring me a little bit…”

“There’s nothing to be scared about, really, it’s just… Christ, you’re gonna think I’m mad, but…”

I slide my hands in my hair, tugging at the hair over my ears.

_Why didn’t I fucking tell her before._

I should have done that when Penny was here. It’d have been easier with Penny. 

Olivia touches my arm softly. “It’s okay babe, take your time.”

“I’m a mage,” I blurt out. “So is Penny, and the rest of the people I know, really. Magic exists. I can’t show you because I don’t have mine anymore - _long story_ \- but, yeah.” 

Better to say it all at once, I guess. Like ripping off a bandage. 

Shock writes itself all over her face, making her eyes go wide and her mouth fall open. 

“You… Magic… Magic _exists_?” she says, wonder in her voice.

I remember when the Mage told me. I thought he was nuts -admittedly, his stupid Robin Hood attire didn’t help take him seriously.

I chuckle nervously. “Yes.”

“You’re not fucking with me?”

“I told you I was being serious. I… I had to tell you because well, the guests at Dev and Niall’s wedding, and Dev and Niall themselves, are mages. They’ll probably be using their magic so… I thought I’d tell you before we go there.”

**…**

**Olivia**

Well, I can’t say that’s the kind of thing I was expecting him to tell me, but I suppose I shouldn’t be that surprised… I already know some creatures that I thought imaginary are real… 

**…**

**Baz**

“I’m still not sure about this, Baz,” Lamb says, for what must be the 5th time since we left London.

I roll my eyes.

“You’ve been alive for what? Centuries? I’m pretty sure you’ve faced scarier things than meeting your boyfriend’s family.”

He sighs much too heavily. And then _I’m_ the one who’s dramatic.

“That’s irrelevant. You told me you had sisters. Kids usually don’t like me. And your parents will probably _not_ like me either. Do I have to remind you that I’m a vampire? Mages aren’t exactly friendly to us. That’s without mentioning the age situation, or the bruises.”

When he first let it slip, the fact that Lamb knew I was a mage came to me as a surprise. I never said it, and even if I carry my wand everywhere, I’m careful about not letting it show, but apparently, mages don’t taste the same as Normals or vampires, so Lamb knew the day he first bit me. You’d think he’d have wanted to end things after finding that out, but he didn’t care.

Up until now, he had never even mentioned the far from ideal relationship both of my kinds have with one another.

I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. 

“My bruises are well hidden, they won’t show. You don’t have to tell my parents how old you are. Considering you haven’t told _me_ , I’d be a little offended if you did, to be honest.”

It makes him chuckle. “I have to keep some mystery, dear.”

“Yeah, whatever. My point is, it’ll be fine. If you show my sisters the slightest bit of attention, they’ll like you, and the baby is a baby so he can’t think anything of you. My stepmother is a sweet woman, unless you do something really awful, she should like you. My father is another story, but it’s more because he still isn’t really comfortable with the fact that I’m gay.”

We had made progress, when I was with Snow, but my father wasn’t exactly enchanted the other day when I called and said I’d be bringing my boyfriend home. 

I don’t care.

I cared about my father’s opinion _a lot_ before. Now I’ve realized that making myself sick over it won’t make him change his mind.

Besides, Lamb isn’t Snow. He won’t care either if my father isn’t happy I’m with him. 

“Stop whining about it and I’ll let you do whatever you want with me when we go back to the club,” I tell him, a small smile spreading on my lips.

I glance at him and see that he’s smirking. He slides his hand on my thigh, then _between_ my thighs. He holds tightly with all of his fingers, except his pinky, that brushes my crotch.

That fucking bastard. 

“Sweetheart, I think we both know I’ll have my way with you regardless of what I do,” he says smugly, and I feel a shiver course through me.

Fucking hell.

**…**

**Simon**

“So?” Penny asks. “How did it go?”

“Surprisingly, it wasn’t that bad,” I say with a yawn.

It’s so late, but I spent more time with Olivia than I thought I would and I still wanted to call Penny before I went to bed. She asked me to. “She was a bit shaken of course but she didn’t try to send me to a madhouse so it was a success.”

Penny lets out a breathy laugh at that.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Hey, I didn’t call you to be insulted!” 

“Then give me more details about what happened with Olivia. I can’t insult you if I’m not the one talking.”

A very fair point.

I change my position. My back hurts, I’d be better lying down.

I look behind me before I move -Ollie has a nasty habit of curling himself up into a ball on my pillow, despite practically the whole bed being empty- and then I lie down, turning on my side to rest the phone against the bedside table. 

“Well of course at first she was surprised, but then I told her that she would see mages using their magic soon because you know, we’re going to Niall and Dev’s wedding, and so now she’s looking forward to that. Then she proceeded to ask me what other things that Normals consider to only exist in tales are actually real, so I told her about that. Oh, and she was kind of offended when she realized that we call Normals that, it was a bit funny. Overall, she wasn’t too shocked so I’m glad. It could have gone _much_ worse.”

Penny hums. “Have you told her about vampires then, when you told her about other _things_? Baz will be at the wedding after all.”

Yes, thank you for the reminder.

“Baz has never exactly been open about his vampirism, I don’t think he’d expose his fangs to someone he doesn’t know but either way, I did tell her about vampires. Her reaction to that was a bit weird, but I mean, I was never really comfortable with vampires…” Except Baz. And still, his vampirism freaked me out for a long time. “So I can’t blame her.”

**…**

**Baz**

It’s Mordelia who opens the door, Octavia clinging to her leg, half-hidden behind it.

I suppose it’s better than if it was my father. 

She gives me a big smile, which I answer immediately.

“Hey, Mordy.”

As I crouch, I hear Lamb say hello to my sisters. I ruffle Octavia’s hair. “Hello, you.”

I stand back up, only to see Mordelia looking at Lamb with her eyebrows furrowed.

Crowley, this isn’t starting well. 

“So you’re Baz’s new boyfriend,” she says, and it sounds like an accusation.

“Mordelia, say hello, you’re being rude,” I scold her.

She rolls her eyes.

“ _Hello._ What’s your name, Baz’s new boyfriend?”

I see a smile tug at Lamb’s lips. I guess it’s a good thing he’s amused and not annoyed by Mordelia’s attitude. 

“I’m Lamb.”

“That’s a stupid name,” she says _very_ honestly, which makes Lamb chuckle.

Daphne’s voice rings in the entrance hall. “ _Mordelia!”_

Seconds later, my stepmother walks in, balancing the baby on her hip, and Mordelia flushes before running away, Octavia tagging along her. 

“Hello. Excuse my daughter,” Daphne says, giving Lamb an apologetic smile as she takes her tim to look at him. “I’m Daphne,” she then adds, offering him her hand. “Baz’s stepmother.”

He shakes her hand. Thank Merlin. For a moment I thought he’d kiss it, which would have been okay, I suppose, but a bit weird. Lamb can be somewhat old fashioned, when it comes to certain things. He must have kept some habits that he adopted previously in his long life. 

“Lamb. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says with the same sweet voice as the one he uses when he asks his bartenders for bloody marys. “I’ve heard loads about you.”

“Good things, I hope,” Daphne smiles, glancing at me. 

“Very good things, do not worry.”

“I wish I could say the same about you, but as it happens, Baz only told us about you a few days ago.”

She glances at me again, disapproval in her eyes. I try really hard not to roll mine. 

“No offense, but I don’t _have_ to tell you I’m dating someone the moment I start dating them, mum.”

“You don’t _have_ to, but you should…” She pauses, and I see her frown. Then, she hurriedly reaches for my hand. My hand, where the tattoo I got only a few days ago is. It’s a big eye, I really like it. I’m not sure Daphne does, though. “And you should also tell me when you get a tattoo! Aleister Crowley, Baz!”

Here we go.

Feels good to be home, I guess.

**…**

**Lamb**

Baz’s stepmother and siblings are lovely. The older of his sisters won’t stop looking at me with rather amusing suspicious eyes. I _think_ she isn’t happy that I’m with her brother, though I couldn’t tell why. I don’t really understand children. His other sisters are more reserved ; they only said hello and then went back to playing dolls on the floor. They giggled when they heard my name, but there was no comment about it.

As for his stepmother, after going on a little rant about Baz’s tattoo -it’s a good thing she doesn’t know he has more- she excused herself for her husband, saying that he was away and would be back shortly. It made Baz nervous. He’s been fidgeting ever since. 

I move my hand to rest around his neck, from behind, and squeeze a bit. Not for long, but enough to makes him feel the pressure. I know it's something that he likes. If his stepmother wasn’t in the room, I could do it longer, but…

Then, I simply put my hand on his shoulder. I had a doubt he might, but he doesn’t shrug it off. 

We keep chatting with his stepmother about insignificant things -I suppose the questions about my life and Baz’s and my relationship will come later, when both his parents will be here- and Baz relaxes more and more as we do, until the front door opens and closes.

By the time his father reaches the room in which we are, Baz is completely tense. I move my hand to rub soothing circles between his shoulder blades, but it doesn’t seem to help much. 

He stands up when his father stops in front of us, and I follow.

“Hello dad. This is Lamb, my boyfriend. Lamb, my father.”

“Malcolm Grimm,” he says cooly, his eyes scanning me as he reaches for my hand to shake it. His eyebrow twitches when he feels my hand. Probably because I’m much too cold.

That and my skin tone, it must have given my vampirism away. His _son_ is a vampire, after all, he should know how it is. 

“Well,” Baz’s stepmother says as she stands from the couch, clasping her hands together. “Let’s go to the dining room, shall we?”

**…**

**Baz**

Bless her.

“Basilton what’s that on your hand?!” my father exclaims when he looks back at me after staring at Lamb.

Aleister Crowley, save me.

**…**

Surprisingly, Lamb gets along quite well with my parents. 

Daphne seems to appreciate the respectful way he talks about and touches me, and I know she’s happy that I’m doing better. I wasn’t smiling like that last time I was home. But the moment when she really fell under his spell, I think, is when she saw me help myself with some meat and eat it like it was the most natural thing in the world. She didn’t comment, of course, but I could tell she was glad I was able to do that now.

Lamb has taught me so much about being a vampire.

It took some time for my father to warm up to Lamb, but once he did, they started talking about boring business things, so I suppose they’re getting along. 

However, I can tell that neither of them are comfortable with his age. He still hasn’t admitted how old he is, but just as I _knew_ when I saw him that he had lived for a long time, my parents have guessed that he _wasn’t_ the age he appeared to be. Not that I think they would have been particularly happy with it if he _was_ the age he appears to be. He told me he was 34 when he was bitten, which is, incidentally, when he stopped aging.

So really, it went much better than I thought.

Well, if you don’t think about Mordelia asking him to show his fangs. I feared my father was going to choke to death on what he was eating. 

I suppose Mordelia guessed he was a vampire.

He was quite amused by that, and promised he would once we’d have had lunch, so now, as we’re barely done with our dessert, she asks, “Can I see your fangs now?”

Lamb smiles. “Sure. I was going to go smoke, though, do you mind coming with me?”

Going far from my father to show his daughter what the fangs of a vampire look like, that’s a brilliant plan. I think he’d have a heart attack if Lamb let his fangs drop here and now. 

Mordelia shakes her head, already jumping from her chair.

“Are you coming too?” Lamb asks, looking at me.

“No. I’m going to stay here for a bit.”

I don’t want to hear my father’s great speeches about cigarettes.

“Alright then. Wish me luck with your sister.”

I chuckle. “I promise she doesn’t bite.”

**…**

**Lamb**

I thought that my letting her see my fangs would make Baz’s sister less hostile, but as I light my cigarette, she’s still looking at me with the same mistrust in her eyes as when we arrived. 

“You don’t like me, do you?”

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but she quickly goes back to her initial facial expression.

She crosses her arms. 

“I don’t want Baz to be sad again. He was so sad when Simon decided he didn’t want to be his boyfriend anymore. I don’t want you to do that to him.”

I feel a smile grow on my lips. 

I’m sure Baz would _love_ to hear his 9-year-old sister giving me a talk about not hurting her brother.

“I won’t.”

Half of the reason why I don’t want him to fall in love with me is _precisely_ so that he won’t be hurt when our relationship ends. 

“I’ll hex you if you do. I know how to use my dad’s wand.”

I can’t help chuckling. She’s a funny little girl.

“Do you want to see my fangs or are you not done threatening me yet?” I ask before dragging on my cigarette. 

“I want to see,” she says, the look in her eyes changing completely. “Baz always says no when I ask him to show me because he’s annoying. It’s stupid. It’s not like I don’t know he’s a vampire. What’s it going to change if I see his fangs?”

She’s _really_ a funny little girl. I haven’t been around a child this young in so long, though, so it’s a little disorienting talking to her. 

I crouch in front of her, pressing the tip of my cigarette against the cobblestones to put it out, and I let my fangs drop.

Her eyes go wide, and she giggles excitedly.

“That’s _so_ cool!”

**...**

“You know, Baz,” I tell him after making sure he’s well focused on the road -because where would the fun be if he was already distracted. 

He hums

“Now that I’ve seen you and your father… I think I understand your character better.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m only saying… Sir is my personal favourite, but I wouldn’t mind if you called me daddy,” I say, my lips quirked up.

The car swerves.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Although it hurts  
> I'll be the first to say that I was wrong  
> Oh, I know I'm probably much too late  
> To try and apologize for my mistakes  
> But I just want you to know  
> I hope he buys you flowers  
> I hope he holds your hand  
> Give you all his hours  
> When he has the chance  
> Take you to every party  
> 'Cause I remember how much you loved to dance  
> Do all the things I should have done  
> When I was your man”  
> — When I Was Your Man, Bruno Mars

_9 months_

**Baz**

I think Niall is about to both cry and yell at his mother at the same time. It’s rather funny. 

Natalie smooths the front of his suit jacket once more and he snaps. “Mum! Stop this, my jacket is fine, Merlin.”

“You have to be perfect honey. It’s your wedding.” Her eyes are full of tears too. “My baby is getting married,” she says, adjusting his jacket _again_. 

Leaning against the wall opposite from me, his sister seems just as amused as I am. She must be glad her little brother is getting that treatment and not her. It’s probably partly because of her that Niall is getting this treatment in the first place ; she doesn’t want to get married so Niall is their mother’s only chance to fuss over one of her children on their wedding day.

“Don’t start crying,” Niall says, pointing his finger at her _very_ threateningly. “I’ll cry too and we can’t have that. I’m not supposed to cry before I even see Dev.”

I can’t help but snort at that. I’ve tried containing my amusement for Niall’s sake but honestly, who does he think he’s fooling, he’s quite obviously a blink of the eye away from bursting out crying. 

“Basilton if you’re here to make fun of me you can leave,” Niall groans, glaring at me over his shoulder. It makes me smile wider. “Oh, fuck you! Out of my sight! You should be with Dev anyway, the poor bloke is alone with your vampire boyfriend, he may have been drained by now.”

A short laugh escapes my lips. “Don’t worry, I’m sure Dev’s blood is still inside his body. Besides, he’s the one who asked to be left alone with Lamb.”

“ _Whatever_ , go see your cousin, Baz. You’re bothering me,” he decrees, turning his head back to the mirror. 

I’m not sure whether he truly wants me to save Dev from Lamb -though Lamb is more likely to be the one needing saving, Dev is still bitter about how my last relationship ending affected me- or if he simply doesn’t want me to be here when he breaks down crying, but either way, I obey. It’s his day. I’m not going to be _too_ contrary today. 

I wander the corridors of my family’s old house until I reach the room Dev has decided was his own to get ready. I knock, wait for a “Come in”, then do just that. 

Dev is sitting on a couch, already fully clothed and ready to go, and Lamb is sitting on the other end of that same couch. They both seem rather relaxed -though Dev is obviously tense, it’s his _wedding day_ \- so I suppose they weren’t at each other’s throat before I arrived. 

Good.

I may not be _truly_ dating Lamb, I still care for him and I like having him with my life. I’d hate for Dev to be hostile to him. 

“Hello, gentlemen,” I say as I head towards the couch, sitting in between them. I fling my arm around Dev’s shoulders. “So, getting married today uh?”

His whole face lights up. It makes me smile. It’s rare to see Dev this genuinely happy. I’m glad that he can be this happy today despite his family’s absence and the reminder that it is of their terrible decision to kick him out. 

My uncle and my aunt aren’t the greatest people to be around, but they’re still his parents. They should have been here today. 

“Does Niall look good?”

“Quite handsome. I might steal him from you,” I tease him.

He smiles wider. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that. But speaking of stealing people’s boyfriends, Snow’s bringing his girlfriend, as you know,” Dev says, patting my knee.

Way to ruin someone’s mood.

“I know, yes,” I answer, my voice a little tense.

“Well I put the two of you and your respective partners,” he starts, tilting his chin to point at Lamb. “at the same table so that you can have your dramatic reunion without bothering everyone else. Isn’t that nice?”

If you ignore Dev’s sarcastic voice, that’s a good idea -so Niall must have come up with it. Except for that day at the club, and this night that never existed, Snow and I haven’t seen each other since the break up. It’s better if no one’s around when we’re breathing the same air again. It always made sparks fly. 

The only casualties will be Lamb and Snow’s girlfriend, but I know Lamb will enjoy watching that trainwreck, and I couldn’t care less about how the girl my ex is fucking feels. 

The only answer I give Dev is a groan.

**…**

Lamb is staying inside the house during the ceremony, and I’m waiting with Dev by the altar, all so that no catastrophe will happen now. It’s all I want. 

Sure, I’m quite excited to piss Snow off with Lamb, but it’s my best friends’ wedding and I don’t intend on ruining it. They deserve a wonderful day. 

I notice Snow the moment he arrives, his arm around _Olivia_ ’s waist. Their clothes match, it’s ridiculous.

Their clothes match… and the suit he’s wearing is familiar.

 _He didn’t dare_.

The suit _I_ bought him? While he parades his new girlfriend around? 

I can’t believe him. 

He couldn’t wear the fucking suit for my Leavers Ball when I most wanted him too, and he wears it _now_ with that fucking girl on his arm.

Dev elbows me in the side. 

“Tyrannus, stop glaring at Snow.”

“Call me that one more time and I’ll hex you.”

“It’s your name.”

“Fuck off.”

**…**

**Simon**

I purposely avoid Baz’s gaze, as hard as it is not looking his way. Considering how our last encounter went, and how it _ended_ I’m not sure I’m ready to face him just yet. So instead, I go say hello to his family. I know Malcolm probably isn’t happy to see me -if Daphne could forgive me from breaking their son’s heart, I don’t think he did- but I’ve missed them all.

They were like my family, for a few months. 

“So, I know it’s a bit weird but could you stay here for a moment?” I ask Liv, showing her the chairs where we will take place during the ceremony. “I’d like to say hello to some people but, well, they’re related to Baz, so, you know, it’s better if you’re not with me while I do so.”

I hope she won’t be offended. I’m _so glad_ that she agreed to come here with me, I don’t want to make her feel neglected but I’m just going to go say hello, it shouldn’t take too long, right?

Thankfully, as kind as ever, Olivia only smiles. “Sure.”

I smile back, resisting kissing her forehead. I’m not looking at Baz, but he may be looking at me, and I don’t know, it would feel wrong to kiss Liv when he’s right there. 

Then, I head towards the Grimms.

The first thing I notice is that Elias has grown _so much._ It makes my heart clench. I was so close to this kid when I lived in Hampshire, he was only a few months old when I last held him, and now he’s more than a year old. 

The second thing I notice is Daphne’s warm smile. Merlin, I missed her so much. We text, even call sometimes, but it’s not the same. It could never be the same as when I lived with them and was Baz’s boyfriend.

The thought of that time in my life causes a lump in my throat. I was in a horrible head space, back then, but fuck, it was still a good time. Being with the kids, playing with them, telling them stories, holding the babies in my arms, and being with Daphne, feeling what it must be like to have a mother… It was all so wonderful. 

Having lost Baz breaks my heart. 

Having lost Baz _and_ his family… it’s almost unbearable. 

“Hello,” I say nervously, my hands in the pockets of my trousers. 

“Hello Simon,” Daphne answers, because of course she’d answer first. “I’m happy to see you.”

The worst part is that it sounds genuine. 

“I’m happy to see you too. It’s been too long.”

I realize as I say it just how true it is. 

She smiles a bit more, and I turn my attention to the rest of them. I get a nod of acknowledgment from Malcolm, which is honestly much more than I expected, and the twins are clinging to my legs soon enough, calling my name.

It makes my heart a little lighter. I crouch to be closer to their heights, and they put their arms around me as soon as they can, hugging me messily, both at the same time. 

“Why don’t you come home anymore?” Ophelia asks.

She only said a few words together, not full sentences that made sense back when I last saw her.

She’s grown so much, just like Elias. Just like all of the kids. Octavia _walks_ now. Right now, she’s up on her feet, hiding behind her dad’s leg, looking at me curiously.

It hurts a bit, but I didn’t expect the babies to remember me. I wasn’t even sure the twins would remember me. 

“That’s a very good question, princess,” I answer with a smile, because I don’t want to have to explain to her that coming at her place isn’t really something I can do anymore.

I chat with the twins a little bit, after that, which is great, but something is bothering me. Mordelia didn’t say hello. She’s been sitting on her chair, swinging her legs slowly, looking at the floor. I step closer to her.

“Hey, Mordy.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she answers immediately, sounding irritated.

“Why?”

“Because I’m angry with you.” She glares at me, and I swear, a child has never made me feel so loathsome in their eyes as she does now, and I’ve grown in care homes where everyone hated me. “You made Baz very sad.”

“I… I never meant to make your brother sad, Mordelia,” I answer, shame burning my cheeks.

I don’t know _exactly_ how bad things got for Baz, but I know that they got _quite_ bad. I only saw them for a few seconds, but all these scars on his arms still haunt me. 

I understand why Mordelia would be angry. I’m angry too, when I think that it’s because of me that it got this bad.

**…**

As the ceremony begins, I accidentally meet Baz’s gaze, and the way the look in his eyes change when they fall in mine knocks the wind out of me. 

When I see him glance at Dev and Niall, a hint of sadness shining in his eyes, it’s like my heart is being ripped out of my chest.

I know what he’s thinking.

**…**

**Baz**

It could have been us.

**…**

**Simon**

I know it, because I’m thinking the same.

It could have been us.

If I hadn’t left him, it could have been us.

If we’d been able to fix things, it could have been us.

If I wasn’t so bloody fucked up, it could have been us. 

**...**

**Baz**

Silent, happy tears are still falling freely down Niall’s face when Dev and him approach me, after having gotten hugs and congratulations from their guests. 

Their rings shine so beautifully. 

“Basilton,” Dev says very _seriously_ , which tells me that I should prepare myself to hear some _serious_ bullshit. “You wanted to be the best man, right?”

“I never said such a thing,” I answer immediately.

“Yes you did,” he says as he slips his fingers between Niall’s. “And it is your duty as the best man to be good to us. So I’m going to go make love to my husband, and you’re going to entertain our guests. You can even have your soap opera moment with Snow now if you wish.”

A grin spreads on his face as he says that, and he starts tugging on the hand of a chuckling Niall. 

“Are you fucking serious?” I ask as I see that they _actually_ start walking away.

Merlin, it’s _their_ wedding, shouldn’t _they_ be the ones entertaining _their_ bloody guests?

Dev giggles.

“No, I’m fucking Niall, that’s the whole point mate!” 

They run towards the house, still holding hands, laughing like madmen.

I _hate_ them.

**…**

Going back with the other guests is… interesting, to say the least. Particularly since Lamb is here now. I saw him heading out as Dev and Niall went in, so I waited for him and we arrived at the part of the garden where tables are laid hand in hand. 

Thankfully, my parents are busy talking with Niall’s mum, so, as Dev said, I can have my soap opera moment with Snow. 

Wonderful.

I see the exact moment he realizes what’s happening.

His eyes go a little wide, before he turns livid. 

I wind my arm around Lamb’s instead of holding his hand, which, incidentally, brings our bodies closer. 

Snow’s cheeks flush.

If he’s getting that riled up just from _seeing_ me with Lamb, tonight will probably be particularly difficult on him. I briefed Lamb ; for as long as we’re here with Snow, we’re a perfect, loving couple. I warned him that I might throw one or two ‘ _I love you_ ’s in there so that he’d be aware and wouldn’t freak out, and I told him he didn’t have to hold back on physical contact.

If there’s one thing Lamb and I have in common, it’s that we’re quite tactile. When we’re around his flat, we’re always touching, even if we’re not having sex. 

There’s something that intrigues me as we approach, though.

Snow’s girlfriend. She looks like she’s seen a ghost. I don’t understand what could possibly cause her to have that reaction.

I get an answer quickly enough.

As we reach the table -which is only fit for 4 people, Niall and Dev really worked on excluding us from the rest of their guests- I see a smirk grow on Lamb’s lips.

He sits comfortably on his chair, and glances at Snow’s girlfriend.

“Olivia, it’s been so long, darling.”

…What?

**…**

**Olivia**

How can London be that small?

How is it possible that _somehow_ , Simon’s ex has a boyfriend, and that this boyfriend is _Lamb._

Jesus Christ, I’m really the least lucky person on earth, aren’t I?

From the corner of my eye, I see Simon look back and forth between his ex, Lamb, and me, completely confused. Baz looks just as lost as Simon.

I have an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach as I give Lamb a weak smile. “Hello, Lamb.”

“How do you two know each other?” Baz asks at the same time as Simon exclaims “What the fuck is going on here!”, looking at Baz with furious eyes.

God, I shouldn’t have come. I’m not sure I want to witness this disaster.

Simon was so nervous when he told me about magic… I’m sure he wouldn’t like it if he knew I was already aware vampires exist and didn’t mention it when he was explaining all these things to me.

As he always did, Lamb takes control of the situation. He clears his throat to draw everyone’s attention on him, and then looks at Simon and I with this infuriating smirk on his lips.

“Hello,” he says, his voice smooth like the softest of silks. It gives me goosebumps. “My name is Lamb, I’m Baz’s boyfriend.” To prove what he’s saying, as if we didn’t see him with Baz on his arm, he takes his hand over the table, intertwining their fingers. 

**…**

**Simon**

Baz’s _boyfriend._

I’m going to rip his fucking hand off.

I feel sick.

**…**

**Olivia**

“And you are?” Lamb asks, looking at Simon.

“How do you know my girlfriend?” he answers, his voice unsteady. 

I tense. There are some things about my past I wish Simon didn’t know, and this is _definitely_ one of them.

I don’t regret it, exactly, it was a necessity and I really enjoyed it at the time but looking back… I can’t say I’m proud of it. There are other places, _better_ places where I could have gone than Lamb’s club. 

He keeps smiling, with amusement in his eyes. He enjoys this. He’s always enjoyed this. Power. Feeling in a position of superiority. Being the person in a room who has the _most._ The most knowledge, the most money, the most years since their birth.

The most young things desperately begging him for a bite. 

“She used to work for me,” he answers, making my stomach drop.

My only comfort in this situation is that Simon doesn’t know… He didn’t read the drinks menu, and even if he did, there’s no way he would guess what bloody marys are at Lamb’s club, nor what they imply.

Lamb’s boyfriend must, though. Of course he must. If he’s with Lamb, he couldn’t possibly not be aware of the inner workings of the club, unless he’s very daft and that does not seem to be the case, from the few things I’ve heard about him. 

“Work for you? What does that mean?”

Just as Simon asks that, Baz’s face changes. He turns his head at Lamb hurriedly.

“She _worked_ for you? At the club? Did… Did she… Has she ever served you a bloody mary?”

I wish I could dig a hole in the ground and hide in it.

Lamb ignores Simon’s question in favour of answering his boyfriend’s.

“She has served me countless bloody marys, sweetheart.”

Baz’s eyes go wide, and I feel Simon’s irritation grow more and more as he realizes he’s seemingly the only person who doesn’t understand what’s going on right now.

“What does that fucking mean?!” he eventually snaps.

He’s staring at Baz with his eyes full of fire, not Lamb, but yet it is Lamb who answers - _of course_.

“You see, I own a bar, and Olivia used to work there,” he says calmly. My heart is pounding in my chest. I’m sure he can hear it. I’m sure he likes it. “And you see, there are little… things, that I like to do for my employees, and that they like to do for me.” 

I see his cheeks become fuller, and this familiar feeling of _craving_ deep in my stomach overwhelms me. Even after so long without it, his fangs still attract me to him like a moth to a flame. 

He opens his mouth, enough to show his fangs, sweeping his tongue over them. They look just as shiny and sharp as they used to. I have an urge to scratch the part of my shoulder where it meets my neck. It tickles.

Simon tenses, as he seems to understand.

Lamb _makes sure_ he understands - _of course_ -, smugness in his voice and on his quirked up lips.

“Your girlfriend tastes delicious.”


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ He is sensible and  
> So incredible and  
> All my single friends are jealous  
> He says everything I need to hear  
> And it's like I couldn't ask for anything better  
> He opens up my door  
> And I get into his car  
> And he says, "you look beautiful tonight"  
> And I feel perfectly fine  
> But I miss screaming and fighting  
> And kissing in the rain  
> And it's 2 a.m. and I'm cursing your name  
> You're so in love that you act insane  
> And that's the way I loved you  
> Breakin' down and coming undone  
> It's a roller-coaster kinda rush  
> And I never knew I could feel that much  
> And that's the way I loved you”  
> — The Way I Loved You, Taylor Swift

**Olivia**

“You knew vampires existed? You _worked_ for a fucking vampire?”

His hand is still around my arm, firm and restricting. He’s holding so tightly it burns. I try to wriggle out of it.

“Let me go, you’re hurting me!”

Something flashes in his eyes, and his hand comes loose. Instead of holding me, he clasps his hands together. It’s probably hurting _him_ now, if he’s using as much strength. 

“Jesus Christ, Olivia, why didn’t you tell me?” he says, anger making his voice tremble. 

His cheeks are flush, but not in the way I like, and his eyes give out the same anger as his voice. 

I step back.

“You didn’t tell me you were a bloody magician, Simon!” I shout back.

I can’t believe he’s mad at _me_ for not telling him I _worked_ for a vampire when _he_ didn’t tell me he _was_ not human. I’d say my little omission is much worse than is. 

“First of all, it’s _mage_ not magician. Second of all, you could have told me when I told you about magic! I talked to you about vampires and you said nothing, while you knew they existed perfectly well since you let one fucking _bite_ you!”

“It’s not something I like talking about, alright?” I feel my skin heating up as anger rises inside of me too. “Why does it matter that Lamb bit me anyway? It’s not like he made me a vampire, he just drank my fucking blood and it was _years_ ago for God’s sake!”

I don’t _understand_ why he’d be so upset. Besides, his ex does seem to be a vampire too… I wouldn’t be surprised if Simon was familiar with the bite as well.

He open his mouth to say something, but then he changes his mind and runs his hand through his hair instead, letting out a heavy breath, his shoulders tense and his face still flush. 

“Bringing you here was a bad idea,” he says.

I scoff. _Quite obviously._

“I think you should leave,” he continues, which makes me pause.

_Leave?_

“What do you mean leave?” I ask, frowning.

“I mean that you should go back to London. I shouldn’t have asked you to come here in the first place, I’m sorry. I… Just go, Olivia. I’ll find someone to drive me home,” he says, waving his hand at me dismissively.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m very serious. Please Liv, just go home. It’s better for everyone. You have no reason to be here, you’ll be better off at your place. Please.”

**…**

**Simon**

She hesitates.

I can tell she’s pissed off, the irritation clear in her eyes, but I’m sure she knows that it’s the best thing to do too. She’s surrounded with people she doesn’t know, most of them aren’t happy she’s here, and the one guest she does know is her old boss who happens to be a vampire -a vampire who used to _bite her_ , fucking hell. There’s no way she wants to be here.

“Very well, then,” she says shortly. “Don’t call me to pick you up tomorrow, because I won’t.”

“I know.”

And just like that, she leaves the house where I dragged her to be able to talk in private, heading towards the parking spots instead of the garden. 

**…**

I wander the house -though really, I wouldn’t call that a _house_ , but of course the Pitches do- for some time to collect myself and make some sense of my thoughts. There was so much going on at the same time, my head hurts, and I’m starting to feel a not so unfamiliar sadness overwhelming me.

Baz has a boyfriend.

Baz has _moved on_. 

I know I shouldn’t feel this burning jealousy at the thought of Baz _dating_ another man, it’s okay for him to see someone else, _I’m_ seeing someone else.

But it fucking hurts.

I know I should be happy for him. I broke up so that _I_ could heal, but also so that _he_ could heal, so I suppose that it’s a good thing that he can be in a relationship with someone and go on with his life. 

But it fucking hurts. 

Seeing him at the club -I suppose it’s the fucking bar his _boyfriend_ owns where Liv used to worked- the other day, hearing him fuck this random bloke… It was already awful. It made me so angry and jealous and _sad_.

But seeing him today, holding hands with his _Lamb_ , pulling him closer, being called pet names by him… It makes me want to scream.

Someone else gets to hold Baz’s hand. Someone else gets to casually chat with him, to casually touch him. Someone else gets to see his most private smiles, to hear his lovely, genuine laugh. Someone else gets to sleep tangled with him at night. Someone else gets to feel his body underneath theirs. Someone else gets to share everything with him.

Someone else gets to do all the things I once got to do.

 _And on top of that_ , that bloke used to bite Olivia.

I shiver when I remember how it felt like being bitten. The sharp pain, and then the pleasure, so much pleasure. I’m certain my memory doesn’t do it justice, and yet what I remember is so intense…

Everything was always intense with Baz, but his _bite._ Fuck, what I would do to feel his fangs sink in my flesh again.

That thought makes me a little lightheaded. 

I shouldn’t want that.

It’s not something that’s mine to have anymore.

Even _Baz_ isn’t mine anymore. 

**…**

**Baz**

I don’t know what happened with Snow and his girlfriend while they were away after Lamb’s revelations, but when he comes back to the table, he’s alone. 

Merlin, I wish we’d stayed at the table. I want to know where she is. I want to know what they said -they must have argued, if the obvious annoyance on Snow’s face is anything to go by.

I’m about to ask Lamb to go back to our seats, effectively interrupting his _fascinating_ conversation with Mordy, when I see Snow’s gaze on me, on _us._

He looks even angrier than he did seconds ago.

I might have a better idea than going back to our table, then… I could get answers out of him later, after all… 

**…**

**Simon**

It’s a small thing.

It probably shouldn’t hurt me as much as it does.

It shouldn’t be the _one_ thing that makes me want to cry, not when I already saw that bloke holding Baz close and saying he’s his boyfriend.

And yet…

And yet it’s seeing him standing next to Mordelia, seemingly having a conversation the little girl finds particularly funny, that ties my throat.

She wouldn’t say hello to me. She wouldn’t smile to me or hug me or do any of the things she used to do, and now she’s talking with Lamb, having fun with him.

He didn’t only take my place in Baz’s bed, in Baz’s life.

He took my place in his _family_.

They were the first family I ever had, the girls were like siblings to me, and now Mordelia hates me but she likes Baz’s new boyfriend. 

It’s like it’s only hitting me now that the life I had a little over a year ago is truly _over_. I’ve lost it. It’s been offered to someone else. 

**…**

I try to focus on Niall and Dev instead of Baz and _Lamb_ , but that’s not very successful. I was doing a pretty good job, watching them dance with Niall’s sister -well, Dev is dancing with Niall’s sister, Niall’s laughing while looking at then- until _somehow_ Baz and his boyfriend end up dancing close to them.

They’re not groping each other too much -probably for Malcolm’s sake, he definitely hasn’t had time to drink enough champagne to witness his son grinding against another man- but they’re still dancing together and it drives me mad.

Baz and I danced so rarely, even though I know he loves it, because I’m shit at it.

They’re exchanging the kind of sweet smile you only share with a lover, Lamb’s hand falling on Baz’s body like it’s the most natural thing in the world for him, like he knows the shape of it by heart.

He probably does.

For days and days after we broke up I could perfectly trace and imagine Baz’s body, from having seen and touched it so much. Now the memories have faded, and I can’t be sure if the images I have of his body are only born from my imagination or if they’re truly things I remember, and I can’t be sure if they correspond to what his body looks like now either. He might have gained or lost weight. Developed more muscles, or on the contrary, lost some. 

And there are the things that weren’t there back then.

The tattoos, that I saw on his arm and chest at the club, and the one I can see on his hand now.

And the scars.

My hands clench when I think about them.

It kills me that Baz hit such a low point he relapsed into those destructive habits he was so proud of having freed himself from.

I hope he’s stopped that again, now. And that he’s proud. He should be if he has. He’s so brave.

He always said I was the brave one. I’m not sure that’s true. If I was the brave one, I’d have shown up at his doorstep, apologizing for the hurt I caused him. If I was the brave one, I’d have tried becoming friends, even if he said he didn’t want to. If I was the brave one, I would have talked to him that one night I’ve been trying so hard to forget. I’d have told him that if my nightmare terrified me so much, it’s because I’m still so in love with him that the thought of him being hurt is suffocating.

If I was the brave one… 

I’d have fought for him more, I suppose.

**…**

**Baz**

Snow isn’t getting riled up. That’s no fun.

I move my hand up Lamb’s back until it’s between his shoulder blades, and I lean in to whisper in his ear. “Let’s go back to our table. The food should be served soon anyway.”

“Oh yes,” Lamb says as I move back, a smile dancing on his lips. “It’s definitely for the food that you want to go back.”

“Exactly.”

“Absolutely not because your ex has been sitting there alone for a while.”

He wraps his arm around my waist. His hand is placed _exactly_ where the red marks he gave my last night from holding my hips are. 

“Not at all,” I answer, right when he squeezes my skin, making me choke on my breath. 

I glare at him, only to see his amused eyes. “I hid my bruises, I didn’t make them disappear. They still hurt, you brute.”

He smiles wider. “Oh, sweetheart, I know.”

He squeezes again. 

I can’t even pretend I don’t like it. I love it when he reminds me of all the things we do in bed when we’re out of it. When he reminds me that I’ve made my body his, for now.

My hand automatically goes up to my neck and he smiles when it closes around nothing. 

“We took it off love, remember?”

Yes, I remember. 

The only moments when it’s on are when we’re in his flat or at the club -despite everything he can say about us not _really_ being in a relationship, he quite likes showing everyone at the club that I’m his. 

Lamb puts his hand around the back of my neck, like he did back before I had the collar to tug on to obtain a similar effect, and applies pressure. 

“It’s alright. I told you that if you’re good I’ll put it back on when we get back home.”

_If I’m good._

That’s a very vague indication, but it usually takes me purposely and blatantly disrespecting one of the rules we’ve set for Lamb to consider I’ve been bad, so I should be fine. 

His hand lets go of me completely as we’re nearing the table.

We take back our seats, and I watch Snow avoiding our gazes. It’s rather comical how hard he tries and how quickly I know he will pathetically fail. 

“Where’s your girlfriend?” I ask casually.

I feel more than I see Lamb resting his arm on the back of my chair, and I _do_ see Snow’s eyes turn colder.

“Gone,” he answers.

“Yes, I’ve gathered. I’m wondering where she’s gone.”

He exhales heavily, showing his annoyance. He should know not to do that. He should know it only makes me want to bother him more.

“That’s none of your business.”

He should also know that telling me that will only make me want to mind his business even more.

Honestly, it’s like he’s forgotten all those years of sharing a dorm. I’ve been awful to him for most of the time we’ve known each other, he should know that’s my default mode.

I had to unlearn all of that gratuitous cruelty when we dated, because I had no reason to be mean to him anymore, but now…

Now I have no reason _not_ to be mean to him anymore. 

“Come on, Snow. Tell me.”

“None. Of your. Business,” he says between gritted tears.

His anger is so fucking beautiful. Always has been.

How many times have I fantasized about an enraged Snow taking his anger out on me by fucking me senseless. 

I shake that thought. I can’t start thinking about sex with Snow again. I’ve been pretty good at ignoring both the memories _and_ desire I have since I’ve started spending more nights in Lamb’s bed than my own. 

“Is she coming back soon?” I ask innocently, propping my chin on my joined hands.

His cheeks turn pink and lips twitch. A smile tugs at mine. He’s so bad at hiding his emotions, it’s shameful.

“She’s not coming back, is she?”

“Oh my God, shut up Baz,” he says, his hands clenching around the tablecloth.

Those Normal swears… I’m used to them now, Lamb is _technically_ a Normal, so he swears like one, but in Snow’s mouth, they still sound much too endearing, just like they used to.

I suppose he’s gotten more and more used to them too, dating a Normal girl. Even with Bunce to speak to him like one of us, I suppose he does spend more time with his girlfriend than his best friend. Besides, if I remember well, Bunce was supposed to be away in America to visit her boyfriend there during the summer holidays, so he must have heard a mage talk even _less_ than usual, lately.

“Let me guess,” I say, clapping my hands excitedly, like this is the funniest thing in the world. At this moment, for the sake of pissing him off, it is. I count on my fingers as I enunciate my theories. “Lovers quarrel? You’re jealous she got more vampire bites than you? She realized she’d be better off at home without you than pretending to be enjoying herself at your arm all night long? She…”

“Shut the fuck up Baz!” Snow snaps, slamming his hands on the table.

The glasses wobble, and I instinctively reach for them to make sure they won’t fall or break. 

“Wow, calm down Snow. You’re still at a wedding,” I remind him.

I make an effort to sound less cold as before. I want to piss him off because it’s funny to witness and because an angry reaction is better than a reaction, not to cause a scene. 

“Go fuck yourself.”

I feel Lamb’s hand squeeze my shoulder. “Just let it go, dear. You wouldn’t want to ruin your friends’ day?”

Of course I wouldn’t.

**…**

Snow doesn't say another word to Lamb or I for the rest of the night. In fact, whenever he’s not forced to be at the table to eat, he’s walking around the other tables, making conversation. 

He talks profusely to Alana, about her life in Canada, I suppose. He’s never travelled outside of the UK -or travelled at all, really- so I assume he must be quite interested about Canada and life as an immigrant. 

It’s widely unsatisfactory.

By the time everyone is going to the room they’ve been given to the night, Snow still hasn’t said a word to me.

I guess I could see it as a good thing. Snow isn’t usually the one doing the hurting, but you never know, and if he doesn’t speak to me, he can’t hurt me. In the end, I’m the one who got out of the wedding without getting angry.

Lamb’s hands slipping under the open tails of my shirt to touch the skin of my stomach bring me back to reality. I smile to him.

“Hello.”

“Hello,” he answers, before kissing my neck. “I’m proud of you. You _mostly_ behaved today.”

I giggle at the way he says mostly, though I can feel my heart warming. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Lamb,” he corrects me, and my heart warms a little bit more. At the beginning, whenever we were behind the closed door of a room, it had to be Sir. Now… Now he asks me to call him Lamb more and more, except when we’re… “We’re not playing right now, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, Lamb.”

I feel him smile against my neck.

**…**

**Simon**

I can’t sleep, so I’m pacing around the kitchen. In my defense, I first came to get a snack -there was a lot of cake left, okay?-, I didn’t mean to _stay_ in the kitchen, but it’s far enough from everyone else that I can turn the lights on and mumble to myself in peace, so it’s not that bad of a spot...

The door opens.

…Except it is.

 _Baz_ , of all people, walks in.

Fuck it really isn’t a good spot.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask.

He raises one of his eyebrows. I hate him so fucking much.

“I’m simply getting some water, am I not allowed to?” he answers as he heads towards me, stopping so close that I can smell his fucking posh perfume, talking with that haughty voice of his that makes me want to… That makes me want to…

I grab his face and crash my lips against his. 


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “And that's the thing about illicit affairs  
> And clandestine meetings  
> And stolen stares  
> They show their truth one single time  
> But they lie, and they lie, and they lie  
> A billion little times  
> And you wanna scream  
> Don't call me kid  
> Don't call me baby  
> Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me  
> You showed me colors you know  
> I can't see with anyone else  
> Don't call me kid  
> Don't call me baby  
> Look at this idiotic fool that you made me  
> You taught me a secret language  
> I can't speak with anyone else  
> And you know damn well  
> For you I would ruin myself  
> A million little times”  
> — illicit affairs, Taylor Swift
> 
> I’ve wanted to write something with Snowbaz and illicit affairs for the longest time, so even if the song in itself doesn’t fit the chapter that well, I’m using it aha

**Baz**

It takes me a few seconds to register what’s happening.

Simon Snow is kissing me. 

Simon Snow’s hands are on either side of my jaw, keeping my face in place. Simon Snow’s lips are on mine, as warm and sweet as they always were. 

I stop thinking and simply kiss him back.

My hands fall on his hips, holding him tightly to make sure he stays here -though he doesn’t seem to want to be anywhere else- as I open my mouth to let his tongue meet mine.

From here, everything becomes a fight. Everything’s always been a fight with him.

When he isn’t licking into my mouth, he bites my lip, his hands sliding in my hair. I kiss him just as enthusiastically, falling back into old ways. My body knows how to respond to the assault of his as if the last time this happened was yesterday.

He pushes me, and I let him, until the small of my back hits the solid surface of the edge of a kitchen counter. I hop on it, winding my arms around his shoulders and opening my legs for Snow to settle between them. 

I squeeze his waist with my thighs and he moans against my mouth. The sound sends a shiver down my spine. 

When he pulls back after what feels like both forever and a second, he slips his hands under my shirt, and I sigh at the warmth of him. He’s so hot against me. 

I missed this feeling so much. 

He nips at my jaw and I gasp, arching into him, pressing our bodies impossibly closer. 

His lips trail a series of kissing along my jaw, on the underside of it, on my neck, and they stop at my collarbones, the last bit of exposed skin. His nose is pressed to the crook of my neck.

“I hate you so much,” he whispers against my skin, and he sounds like he’s about to cry. 

“I hate you too,” I answer, my hand getting lost in his unruly curls. 

“No you don’t.”

No I don’t. I love him with every breath I take. 

“Neither do you,” I say as I tug on his hair to make him look up. This mood is too strange, too melancholic, I can’t have that.

The moment his face is in front of mine again, I lean in and kiss him.

It doesn’t take long for us to go back to passionate, messy snogging. 

At some point, he decides that I’m overdressed and grabs the collar of my shirt, pulling on it as he breaks the kiss to be able to take it off. It falls on the floor, and I can’t even be mad at him for it.

I put my own hands on the hem of his shirt -he’s overdressed too- but the looks on his face stops me.

He looks… angry?

**…**

**Simon**

Baz is covered in bruises. I had tried to ignore those on his neck, but coupled to those on the rest of his upper body, I can’t anymore. 

Love bites on his neck and collarbones, red marks on his hips, shaped like fingers, scratches on his sides, burn marks circling his wrists. 

Baz’s skin never bruised, not in a way that lasted, no matter how hard I tried, how hard I _hit_ , they eventually faded in a matter of minutes. I never had the luxury of looking at his body, long after we were done fucking, and seeing the remains of my attentions on him. 

**…**

**Baz**

I follow his gaze and…

Oh.

The bruises.

Of course.

He could never leave any. It irritated him to no end. 

I wonder how much angrier he’d get if he saw the marks I have on my thighs and my arse…

I give him a teasing smile. 

“As it happens, you were just not good enough to leave marks,” I tell him, playing with the hair at the base of his neck. It’s grown a lot. He musn’t have cut it since the break up, or just once right after.

He glares at me before grabbing the back of my neck and pulling me into another kiss.

“Shut up,” he says against my lips before he starts licking and biting them.

I thought we’d resume snogging, but instead, he presses kisses along my neck again, his hands on my hips, mirroring the marks Lamb left there. His fingers were digging in the flesh of my stomach as he fucked me hard and fast while Snow’s are digging in the flesh of my back as he kisses me gently. 

“He fucks me so much better than ever you did,” I say, because the sweet way he’s tracing my body with his lips might make me cry and I can’t have that. 

I can’t let myself be overwhelmed with feelings for Simon Snow again. I’ve moved past that. I haven’t moved _on,_ I never will, but I’m past turning into a pathetic, weak thing when his arms are around me.

Snow doesn’t appreciate the comment.

He grinds against me, his hard cock pressing against mine, and I gasp.

“Are you sure about that?” he asks as his hands make their way under the waistband of my pyjama trousers. I’m not wearing underwear, so they immediately touch the bare skin of my arse, and I bite my lips at the thought that Snow might squeeze it.

With bruises still fresh -I _really_ needed to unwind this morning before leaving for the wedding- it’ll hurt so much if he does. It’ll feel so good if he does. 

“Yes,” I answer, in the hope that he might…

_He does._

And he bites my shoulder at the same time.

My eyes roll back and a moan escapes my lips.

He uses his hold on my arse to pull me closer -how can we even get closer?- and my hands grip his shoulders when our cocks touch again through the fabric of our pyjamas. The lower part of my stomach is on fire, each bit of my skin in contact with his is burning.

I feel like desire might consume me if we stay like that, kissing, lightly touching, but nothing _more._

I cross my ankles to lock him between my legs. He can’t escape now. I’m stronger than him.

I should have never let him escape in the first place.

He fits so well here.

In between my thighs.

In between my arms.

I start rocking my hips, grinding against him. His groans are muffled by my shoulder but they could still drive me mad.

“I want you so much,” he whispers weakly, as if the confession cost him, and I lose the few self control I still had.

I want him so much too.

I let one of my hands slide down his chest. He shivers at the contact, though I don’t know if it’s because I’m cold or if it’s because it’s _me._ His breath stays stuck in his throat when my fingers play with the dangling string of his trousers. 

“How do you want me?”

**…**

**Simon**

I think I might die here and now.

I’m nothing but desire for him, and he’s giving himself to me.

Asking me how I want him…

“Any way you’ll let me have you,” I answer, because I want it all. 

I want his hand on me, my hand on him. I want to feel him in my mouth, I want to be in his mouth. I want to be inside him. I would even let him inside me if he wanted. 

I want anything.

I want everything.

I want _him._

**…**

**Baz**

“That doesn’t narrow it down much,” I answer, teasingly, even though inside I’m losing my mind.

There are so many things I want…

I need him to choose.

If I choose I’ll take too much. 

I pull on the strings of his trousers before letting them go, the waistband slapping his skin.

A strange sound, halfway between a gasp and a moan, passes through his lips. 

“Fuck Baz. Please, please, anything. Please do something,” he whines.

Hearing it makes my skin feel even hotter. I have Simon Snow begging for my touch. It was almost always the opposite. He was in control, I gave it all up to him. 

It makes me want even more things, things I know I can’t have. 

I settle for something he should let me take. 

I unwrap my legs, letting them fall around his, and push him away just enough to hop off the counter. Then, I manœuvre his body as he looks at me with his pupils so blown there’s almost no blue left in his eyes. I push him again, his back hitting the wall with a loud thump and a low moan. 

I don’t know where this is coming from. That’s really not how I usually act when I’m having sex, but fuck am I enjoying it. “Baz,” he says again, his voice weak and desperate. “Baz, please.”

I sink to my knees and his head falls back against the wall, incidentally exposing his gorgeous throat. I want to bite it.

But I want _this_ more.

I pull his trousers down unceremoniously. This is not the time for teasing and slow lovemaking. It’s fucking. It’s a secret encounter with only the stars for witness, a step out of line that should be forgotten when the sun rises.

A moment lost in time, like this night when I held him as he cried and slept besides him.

I meet his gaze, and hold it as I take the base of his cock between my fingers and swallow him down.

I stroke what my mouth isn’t reaching -yet-, getting drunk on his groans and whimpers and pleased sighs and Normal swears. 

“Baz,” he gasps. “Can I… _yes, like that_ … Can I pull your hair?”

I squeeze his thigh once, hoping he remembers that code we used to use in bed.

He does.

I moan around his cock when I feel his hand in my hair, which makes him clench it around it.

It’s good, it’s so good.

Having him in my mouth, heavy on my tongue, smelling him, his scent even more intoxicating here, feeling his hand on my hair, pulling it just right…

It’s almost too good.

**…**

**Simon**

Baz has always been very into oral sex. I guess that hasn’t changed. 

He’s gotten better at it, though…

So much better…

I don’t _want_ to think about the fact that it’s because he used that scandalous mouth and indecent tongue on other men.

He sucks the tip of my cock and I _can’t_ think.

**…**

**Baz**

He’s getting close.

I can tell.

Even after all these months, I couldn’t forget how Simon Snow is when he’s about to come.

Nothing coherent comes out of his mouth anymore, only moans, and I can feel how hard he’s trying to keep his hips in place, for them not to jerk up and push his cock deeper in my mouth. 

I like to think that it’s because some part of him remembers that I’m not always comfortable with having my face fucked.

His thighs tense a bit more and I stop stroking his cock to take him all the way, relaxing my throat. His breathing is so laboured now I’m afraid he might faint.

I moan around him, as his cock is still deep down my throat, and that does it for him.

I barely have time to move back to have his come in my mouth. 

His softening cock slips out of my mouth, and I try hard not to swallow, even though my body has a reflex to do so. I want to feel him on my tongue a little longer. I don’t know when I’ll get to again.

Maybe never.

In the morning he’ll come back to his senses, and go back to his girlfriend.

I chase her off my mind as I swallow Snow’s come before looking up at him.

I never want to forget how he looks right now, his hair a complete mess, his cheeks red, his mouth hanging open as he breathes heavily, and his eyes wet.

He’s so gorgeous, it’s too intense looking at him. Like looking directly at the sun.

So I look away, resting my forehead on the top of his thigh to catch my own breath. My heart is beating so fast.

His too.

I can feel Snow’s heartbeat in my bones, hear it like his chest has been cut open and his heart exposed. 

My fangs press against my gums and I don’t have it in me to control them, so I let them drop. 

I shift enough for Snow to feel them against his skin, sharp and colder than even me. 

He whimpers.

“You can,” he says, and the words make my entire body tremble.

“Snow…” 

“ _You can_ ,” he says again, pushing my face against his leg more. “Please. I know you want to.”

Of course I want to.

There’s this vein in his thigh, that pulses almost as hard as the one on his wrist and neck, where I usually bit him. It was always tantalizing, hearing and smelling it when I sucked him off. Today is no exception.

“Baz,” he repeats, his hand becoming softer on my hair, stroking it gently, encouragingly. 

And so because I’m weak, and because I can’t refuse Simon Snow anything, especially not something I crave as much as this, I sink my fangs in his flesh, my hands around his thigh, holding it. It’s still a bit soft, even with the running he does, and I couldn’t be happier about it.

The second his blood hits my tongue, my eyes roll back and I get lost in the feeling.

It’s good, so good, almost too good.

It’s so much better than all the blood I’ve drunk recently. I don’t know if it’s because we just had sex, or if it’s simply because it’s Simon, but his blood tastes so much sweeter than anyone else’s.

I’ve always had a sweet tooth.

**…**

**Simon**

I’m going to die.

It’s too much.

I already felt like I was dying when I came but now Baz is biting me and I think that’s going to end me.

It’s so fucking good.

I think if he wasn’t gripping my thigh so hard I would have fallen, my knees gave out about five seconds after I felt his fangs in me.

I can’t believe I went so long without this. Without having sex with him, without him biting me. 

_How_ did I even went so lon...

Olivia. 

**…**

**Baz**

Snow tugs on my hair and I immediately pull back, my tongue starting to lick the wound close. I’ve gotten better at stopping quickly, thanks to all the times I bit Lamb.

“No, Baz, stop,” Snow says, pushing my face away with his trembling thigh.

I take my hands off him and move my head back the next second, looking up at him, confused. 

What did I do wrong?

“Snow…” I start, but he interrupts me.

“We shouldn’t have done that, it’s…” He pulls his trousers up quickly, his hands shaking. “I have a girlfriend. You have a boyfriend. We should have _never_ … It was a mistake,” he blurts out, before practically running out of the room.

Just like that he’s gone, and his words fill the room, echoing louder and louder. 

_A mistake._

They tie a knot in my throat and bring tears to my eyes. Tears of frustration, tears of anger, tears of sadness, tears of pain.

_A mistake._

I’m fine with being a secret. For so long, I thought being his dirty, shameful secret would be as good as it would possibly get for me, if I ever was lucky enough to have him.

But being a _mistake._

I force myself to stand up before I can fall to the ground.

My mouth is still full of his taste, but all the way to my room, he is nowhere to be seen. It’s like he completely disappeared and the only proof that tonight even happened is the aftertaste of his blood on my tongue. 

**…**

**Lamb**

I can tell Baz’s little encounter with his ex didn’t go well the moment he walks in the room.

He reeks of sex, but he doesn’t look like someone who just got off. 

My impression is confirmed when he collapses in bed, practically on top of me, pulling me into a hug.

It only takes a few seconds before I can feel the part of my shirt where his head is resting getting wet.

I close one arm around him, holding him tight, while my other hand goes up to his hair and plays with it soothingly.

“Oh Baz… What happened with Simon?”

He startles.

“How do you know?” he asks, confused.

“I went looking for you. You were taking so long coming back.”

“You… You saw us?”

His face is still hidden against my shoulder.

“You two young men seemed caught up in a quite enjoyable make out session. Invite me next time.”

He hiccups and I understand that this is not a mood I could get him out of with jokes.

Well then. Time to be serious.

I make my voice softer. “Baz, I went away immediately, don’t worry, I didn’t spy on you,” I specify, because I don’t want him to think I intentionally invaded his -their, I suppose- privacy. I’m not into non-consensual voyeurism, it was an accident that I even saw them, and I left when I did. “Now, do you want to tell me what happened sweetheart?”

He sniffles, which should gross me out more than it does -this is an expensive shirt- before he says, “I… You’re not going to be angry with me?” he asks, like a child caught doing something bad.

“Why would I be angry with you?”

“I cheated on you.”

God.

I kiss the top of his head, the only part of his body my lips can reach right now. 

“Oh, baby, no you didn’t. I never asked you for exclusivity. You can have sex with whoever you want love, I don’t mind. As long as you’re enjoying yourself it’s fine by me.”

But clearly, he’s not enjoying himself now.

I at least hope he’ll stop feeling guilty about “cheating on me.”

I thought it was clear that we were _both_ free to see other people, not just me.

I’ll really have to have a serious talk with him about boundaries if he thinks he should accept me fucking other people but also think that I should be mad at him for fucking someone else. 

You’d think that with all the rules we’ve set, he’d understand.

Not now, though.

Now he needs comfort.

“Tell me what happened Baz. If you want. Or… tell me what I can do for you. Whatever. I just want you to feel better, alright?”

He buries his face a bit more against my shoulder.

“He said it was a mistake. I… I blew him and I bit him and he… He said that he had a girlfriend and I had a boyfriend and… and that it was a mistake. I don’t want to be a mistake for him,” he explains, his voice breaking.

Maybe I should have a talk with his ex too. Teach him how to _shut the fuck up_ instead of telling people atrocities.

Especially people like Baz.

Christ, didn’t he date him? He should know how easily Baz gets hurt. How low he thinks of himself. 

“You’re not a mistake for him,” I say, confidence in my voice. “It’s the acts you two engaged in that he considers to be a mistake, and it’s not your fault. He would have thought it was a mistake as well if it had happened with anyone else. He must have realized he had cheated on his girlfriend and felt horrible about himself, but it was no reason to make _you_ feel bad. I’m sorry he said that, but keep in mind that he wasn’t targeting you. Whatever he was feeling, it was directed at himself, not you Baz. Do you understand?”

He nods.

“Good. Now, calm down love, you’re alright. Getting upset won’t change anything.”

I kiss his head again, and I leave my lips there, closing my eyes as I hold him through the last of his tears.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Blonde hair falls just above her shoulder  
> She's 19 but she looks a little older  
> With the prom queen smile  
> The cool vintage style  
> You're obsessed with her  
> And I don't blame you for it  
> But I'll never look like her  
> Not even if I tried  
> I'll never be cooler  
> Not even if I lied  
> Oh, she's whole where I am broken  
> She's great where I am good  
> And I'll never be like her  
> But you know I wish I could”  
> — Never Be Like Her, Olivia Rodrigo
> 
> I’m freewheeling with the song lyrics to be honest, if I can’t find something that fits chapter but have something that fits the story... well, I might as well use that

**Penny**

I’m startled when I see Simon’s name on my phone screen.

It’s past 3 am for him, why in Merlin’s name is he calling me? 

I have a terrible feeling about this. Simon being up this late isn’t that unusual, sometimes he can’t sleep again after having nightmares, and he calls me to spend time with me, but he was at Dev and Niall’s wedding so I’m afraid it’s not just a nightmare causing him to call me.

I take the call.

“Hello?”

“Penny, I fucked up,” he says with a panicked voice.

Well.

I glance at Shepard, gesturing him to go away. I’m sure Simon wouldn’t want this conversation to be heard by someone else. 

“Simon, I’m facetiming you, I want to see you, okay?”

“Yeah, good idea.”

“Breathe in the meantime, Si.”

“Okay,” he says, already taking a shaky breath. 

I hang up and call him back immediately, wondering what could possibly have happened while waiting for his face to appear. 

He looks like he just cried, and his eyes are still wet. 

Merlin, _what fucking happened?_

“Simon, what did you do?”

“I had sex with Baz,” he blurts out. 

It takes me a few seconds to fully comprehend what he’s saying. It seems so… absurd.

But it makes sense at the same time.

“You… had sex with Baz?”

He nods. “It was Dev and Niall’s wedding today you know, and… well… Baz was here and… we… we…”

“Si, I know what having sex is, thank you. But… how? _Why?_ ”

The “why” is obvious, Simon didn’t lose his attraction to Baz just because he broke up. 

I hope he understands that I’m asking why he did it _now_ , while, last time I checked, he still had a girlfriend, and not why he did it, full stop. 

“It was _not_ planned,” he starts. I do hope so. “He… I was angry and sad and I couldn’t sleep so I was in the kitchen you know just trying to get through the night, and he came, and when I saw him… I… he… it was… I completely lost it. I kissed him and it went down from there. We snogged and he… he sucked me off and he bit me and it was amazing until I remembered Liv and then I felt so guilty and I pushed him away and he looked so confused and then sad and… and…”

“Simon, breathe,” I interrupt his rambling. “It’s okay, Si, just breathe. We can’t talk if you’re like that.”

He’s gotten better at calming himself with breathing exercises since he saw his therapist. He does it more quickly, and most time he can manage it on his own, without anyone touching him to ground him. Having someone talk to him helps a lot though, so I keep telling him nonsense as he breathes in and out for a few minutes. I wait until he’s calm enough to say, “Do you have those pills your therapist gave you? I think you could use a little help to relax.”

He shakes his head.

“No. I took one before leaving for the wedding anyway, and she doesn’t want me to take more than one within 24 hours.”

Shit. 

“Well, then. Go drink something, breathe a little more, and then we’ll have to talk, Si.”

He winces, but I know he expected it. He wouldn’t have called me if he just wanted to freak out on me. He wants me to help him. 

What would he do without me, honestly?

I leave for America for two months and he manages to hook up with his ex at a wedding where he took his girlfriend. 

Merlin, he’s a disaster.

“Yeah, I know. You’re staying with me right? While I go drink?”

“Of course.”

**…**

**Simon**

Penny doesn’t talk as I walk to the first bathroom I can find, but she’s here and it’s enough. I can look at my phone and see her. 

When I go back to my room, I brace myself for some serious scolding. 

Not that I don’t deserve to be given a lecture, I really do, I’ve been a massive idiot, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy the thought of it. 

“So,” she says.

“So.”

“You cheated on Olivia.”

Trust Penny not to be gentle. 

“...Yeah, I did,” I admit, feeling this stifling guilt against.

I should have never done that. I should have been able to control myself and I should _not_ have kissed Baz, I should not have done any of the other things I did, no matter how amazing it felt to do so. 

“Have you told her?” Penny asks, with that voice that makes me feel like a child. 

“What? No!”

She shakes her head, clearly disapproving. 

“You should. Trust me, even if it’ll hurt her, it’ll hurt less if you are honest with her and tell her than if she finds out herself,” she says, an edge to her voice.

Oh.

Of course.

Micah.

When I think of the anger I felt towards him when Penny told me, tears in her eyes, about his new girlfriend, it makes me feel more guilty. 

The situation is even worse in case, Micah _thought_ he and Penny were broken up, while I know damn well that I’m dating Olivia.

“And honestly Simon…” Penny continues, sounding a bit more uncomfortable but still sure about what she’s saying. “I think you should break up with Olivia.”

**…**

**Penny**

It’s the only thing to do. He can’t go on like this, hurting himself and that poor girl in the process. I’m not so close to Olivia but she’s a friend and I don’t like the way Simon is treating her right now at all. She texted me earlier to tell me that he’d asked her to leave the wedding and I already thought that was quite rude of him but now…

Now he’s just being plain cruel, cheating on her, and with _Baz_ on top of that. She didn’t let it show, but I’m sure Liv noticed that Simon didn’t exactly talk about Baz the way you expect someone to talk about their ex…

“Pen, I’m not sure…”

“Well _I_ am sure,” I stop him. “You left Baz because he wasn’t good for you, so do Olivia a favour and leave her, because you’re clearly not good for her. You’re leading her on and it’s just cruel. You’re acting the same way Agatha acted with you, except that what you’re doing is even _worse_ because you actually cheated on Olivia while Agatha only showed some interest in Baz. And you're still in love with Baz, Si. I know it, and you know it. Stop lying to yourself, and stop lying to _Olivia_. Break up with her.”

**…**

**Simon**

I’m still thinking about what Penny said long after she hung up.

_Break up with her._

I know that she’s right and that it’s the best thing to do… but I feel so much joy when I’m with Liv, nothing’s ever difficult with her like it was with Baz, I don’t want to lose that…

But maybe that’s how Baz felt about _me_ when we were dating and I still broke up. Because it seemed like the better option for me. 

Maybe this time I should do what’s better for my partner. It’s true that it’s cruel staying with Liv when I’m still in love with someone else, even more so now that I’ve had sex with Baz…

Fuck I had sex with Baz.

I grab a pillow and push it down on my face to scream my frustration out on it while still muffling the sounds.

I hate this _so much._

**…**

**Olivia**

“Simon?” I say shortly when I answer the phone.

If he asks me to pick him up, I’m hanging up on him. I told him I wouldn’t pick him up, so I’m _not_ going to. He decided to be an arse and tell me to leave, so he can find his way back to London on his own.

“Hey, Liv.”

“I’m not coming to pick you up,” I say firmly. 

Ollie meows and I take that as a ‘good job’. That cat likes me, I know he’s on my side about this. I’m pretty sure it’s only because our names are similar that he likes me.

I resume stroking his fur as I listen to what Simon says next.

“That’s not why I’m calling you.” His voice sounds tense. 

“Well, why is it, then?”

I don’t have patience for him right now. 

I went to this wedding where I knew I wouldn’t know anyone for _him,_ to be nice to _him_ and then he became angry with _me_ because somehow my ex boss was here and he asked me to _leave_? 

“I… We should break up.”

I freeze.

Did he…?

Did he _really…_?

No, he wouldn’t.

Everything’s fine between us, why would he…?

And especially not _on the phone_ , right?

“Simon…”

His name came out of my mouth on its own. I don’t think I have enough coherent thoughts right now to be able to think of something to say.

I put my hand under Ollie’s belly and cradle him against my chest, drawing my knees up. He headbutts one of them.

“I know, it’s rash, but… I… I can’t be with you. I care about you a lot Liv, and if I stay with you… I’m just going to hurt you. I… Last night I…” He pauses to take a breathe. I can almost see him running his hand through his messy curls. “I cheated on you. I had sex with Baz, and I still love him. I… I’m so, so, _so_ sorry Olivia, but this is for the best. I can’t… It’s not right to be in a relationship with you when I’m in love with someone else.”

**…**

**Simon**

She hangs up.

**…**

**Penny**

By the time Simon calls again, I should _definitely_ be in bed, but of course, I’m not.

Shepard insisted on binge-watching Star Wars because I’m leaving soon and we haven’t had time to watch it yet despite the fact that Shepard kept begging me to just sit down in front of the TV and watch the bloody movies. So now I’m up at ungodly hours watching movies with him.

But at least, it’s beneficial to my disaster of a best friend. I wonder why he’s calling this time. 

“Simon?” I say as I walk away from the living room, even though Shep has paused the movie. 

“I just broke up with Olivia.”

Merlin and fucking Morgana.

“You _what_? How are you even back in London already?”

There are a few seconds of silence.

“... I’m not in London, Pen,” he says, sounding a bit confused as to why I think he is.

It seems pretty damn obvious to me why I would think that. 

“But Olivia is in London, I know that. So how in Merlin’s name did you break up with her.”

He has the _audacity_ to answer, “I called her?” like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Aleister Crowley, what did I do to deserve that.

**…**

**Simon**

Silence.

And then…

“SIMON SNOW YOU BROKE UP WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND _ON THE PHONE?_ ”

**…**

List of things not to do when breaking up with someone according to Penny :

  1. Not to do it after the person just proposed
  2. Not to do it on the phone



**...**

**Lamb**

I kiss Baz’s forehead before I get out of bed. He’s asleep, I can go soft on him.

Maybe I should go soft on him for a little while. He was quite upset last night -how could he not be with all that happened. 

Besides I don’t mind this too much. The cuddles and the sweet words. I wouldn’t admit it to him, he’d get ideas, but I do enjoy this. It had been a long time since someone had made such an impression on me, but Baz is different from the rest of the people I usually have sex with. 

He isn’t like the Normals his age, of course, he isn’t as full of life -literally and metaphorically- as them, he knows that his time here is going to be long, that he can’t waste his youth, because he’ll be young forever. But he isn’t like the vampires either. He hasn’t been around for a while, he’s still naive and a bit foolish sometimes. Innocent, despite what he may think of himself. It’s refreshing to have someone like this in my life. 

He really is one of a kind.

I try to get ready discreetly not to wake him up, though he probably won’t be woken up by me making some noise. He used this spell on himself, **Sweet dreams**. He rarely uses his magic around me, except for this. Sometimes, not being able to fall asleep gets on his nerves too much and he resorts to this. 

I take a last look at him before leaving the room, making sure he isn’t being tormented by a nightmare. According to what he told me, his spell prevents that but I don’t trust his little magic tricks. 

Then I head out, hoping his ex isn’t still sleeping.

I wasn’t so sure about having a word with him last night, but now, with a clear head, I _am_ sure.

He made Baz _cry._ God knows Baz can get emotional, but I haven’t seen sadness draw tears out of him yet. His voice trembled a little when he first told me about Simon, but he never cried. 

Thankfully, Simon is in the dining room having breakfast with Baz’s parents, one of the grooms and the other groom’s mother. 

Perfect.

I say hello as I walk in, then head towards him, stopping behind him. 

“Can I have a word?”

“No,” he answers immediately, shoving a spoonful of cake in his mouth.

“It wasn’t a question,” I say, my voice cold. “I’m going to say what I have to say no matter what. The only choice you get in this is whether or not you want it to happen privately.”

“I’m not listening to you. I don’t care what you could possibly have to say.”

He sounds disgruntled. 

I wonder if it’s because of what happened with Baz, though I couldn’t tell. I’ve been in _many_ relationships which were all widely different but I was never in the shoes of the cheater. Either because I left before I slept with someone else, or because I was with someone who didn’t ask of me to only sleep with them.

He won’t listen to me?

Alright.

“I know Baz had sex with you last night.”

Simon is obviously not the only one I get a reaction out of -Baz’s cousin mutters “ _Fucking hell_ ” under his breath, his stepmother’s eyes go wide for a second, and his father looks like he wished he was anywhere but here- but he’s the only one whose reaction I care about.

He turns so fast on his chair that he almost falls on his face, and the chair with him. 

“So, are you going to come with me or do you want us to talk here?”

He grunts, but he does stand from his chair, his cheeks bright red. 

I lead him out of the room in silence, until we’re far enough for everyone else who’s downstairs to hear us. 

“I’m sorry, alright?” he starts as I let my gaze fall on him.

I raise my hand, gesturing him to stop.

“I’m not interested in your pointless apology. Baz is an adult, he can do whatever he wants. It’s none of my concern who he has sex with. Well, it’s none of my concern until he comes back to me crying _after_ doing it. I couldn’t care less what was going on in your head nor how you felt, it was not a reason to be cruel to Baz. He’s fragile. How could you not know that telling him it was a mistake would make him feel terrible?”

**…**

**Simon**

He’s talking to me with a condescending voice, as if he thought he knew Baz better than I did, and it’s driving me mad. This bloke… he’s known Baz for what? Weeks? Maybe months? I lived with him for _years_. No one knows him better than I do. 

But on top of the anger… I feel guilt. Again.

Because I made Baz cry. _Again_.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” I say, because it’s true.

I _never_ meant to hurt him, not since I realized I was in love with him, at least.

Lamb gives me a cold look. “Just as I’m sure you didn’t mean to hurt your girlfriend. Yet you still cheated on her, and you still made Baz sad because of something _you_ started. So really, your intentions couldn’t matter any less, only the consequences of your actions do. I have no interest in how you will deal with this situation with Olivia, but I want you to handle it _well_ with Baz. Apologize to him. He deserves an apology.”

He deserves so much more than that, for all the shit I’ve put him through. But I suppose apologizing for last night would be a decent start. 

**…**

**Lamb**

I hope he’s woken up. I wasn’t gone that long, so I’m rather unsure about that, though. 

I make sure Simon knows not to come inside the room unless he’s invited to, and then I walk in myself.

Baz is just coming awake, stretching in bed with a pleased sigh. 

He’s so lovely.

“Hello sweetheart.”

He gives me a sleepy smile.

“Hey, Lamb.” He pushes himself up into a sitting position, his legs hanging from the bed -it’s quite a high bed- and looks at me, reaching out with one of his hands. “Can I have a good morning kiss?”

I chuckle. He usually isn’t a morning person at all, but those spells of his seem to make him wake up in a good mood. 

“Sure.”

I intertwine our fingers once I’m close enough, and pull on his arm to make him stand up. He rests his other hand on my shoulder to make sure he won’t fall as I lean in to kiss him. 

He then lets go of my hand to put his arms around my neck, hugging me with his eyes closed.

I put one of my arms around him. “Still tired?”

He nods.

“I’ll drive on the way back home, if you want. You could sleep in the car.”

He hums. “Please.”

He rests more of his weight against me.

I have no desire to burst his bubble, he seems so peaceful like that, but I know that it’s important. He needs to have a conversation with Simon.

“Don’t be upset, love, but I had a little chat with your ex. He’s waiting behind the door, and he’d like to talk to you.”

He tenses, and his eyes open as he pulls back to look at me. 

“Simon? Why would he want to talk to me?” he asks, apprehension in his voice.

He’s afraid of getting hurt yet again, of course. Poor thing.

“There’s only one way to find out,” I tell him with an encouraging smile.

He untangles himself from me, sighing as he sits back on the bed, hugging himself. He looks so vulnerable.

But this is _important._

“Alright then,” he says, his voice a little unsteady. “Tell him to come in.”


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Lamb**

“You don’t touch him, you don’t yell at him, you don’t do _anything_ to upset him more than you already have? Is that clear?”

The only answer he gives me is a glare.

This unwilling attitude could be particularly interesting in other contexts, but right now it’s only pissing me off. Humans can be so _childish._

“Is that clear?” I repeat, my arm still blocking the way to the room. 

He sighs heavily. “ _Yes_.”

I step aside to let him in. “See, it wasn’t too difficult.”

He glares at me again.

I have a feeling Simon doesn’t like me much. 

As I turn around, not having my back to the room anymore, I notice how quickly Baz changed. First of all he’s wrapped a robe around himself, yet another layer between Simon and him -I know it’s not because he’s cold, he’d have put the jumper he packed if it was the case- and he’s not sitting anymore, but standing with a closed off expression and his arms crossed on his chest, which could be meant to make him look more intimidating, but I’m sure it’s only another way to protect himself.

His coldness could do the trick, if I didn’t see him hugging himself, a scared look on his face mere seconds ago. It seems to do the trick for Simon, though. His shoulders have dropped, and he’s visibly uncomfortable. 

Baz looks at me, a question in his eyes. 

“Baz, do you want me to stay?” I ask, making it look like it’s my idea to Simon. 

“No,” Simon says immediately, not even looking at me. 

“I’m not talking to you. Baz, do _you_ want me to stay?”

He looks hesitant, even though I _know_ he does. I walk towards him, getting in between Simon and him, blocking his view of him, and I put my hands on his shoulders. 

They’re so tense, but they slightly relax when I press down on them. 

“I… Simon…”

“No. I’m not asking you what _Simon_ wants. I’m asking what _you_ want,” I say, boring my eyes into his, my voice firm but not aggressive.

His hand goes up to his neck, but he remembers that his collar isn’t here so instead of trying to tug on it, he put his hand around his throat, barely squeezing with his thumb and his index finger. 

I can hear his heart, it’s beating faster than usual. 

He takes a breath, and says, “Stay, please.”

Good boy.

I give him a small smile, stroking his shoulder with my thumb, hoping he understands what that means. _I’m proud of you_.

It may not seem like a lot, but Baz almost never takes decisions for _himself_ -which I definitely have to have a serious talk with him about- he’s always taking other people’s opinions into account, and generally makes them matter more than his own. He wants to please so much, to be good. 

This is big for him, telling me yes when Simon said no.

I let go of his shoulders, and step aside once he’s let his arm fall back along his body. I’m not sure he’d want Simon to see his little habit. He turned pink the first time _I_ saw him apply pressure to his neck, despite his usual shameless attitude around me. 

**…**

**Baz**

I kind of wish I could be holding Lamb’s hand right now. He’s not far, but he’s not touching me and his presence near me isn’t enough.

This is terrifying. Snow is terrifying.

What if he lied to Lamb and he doesn’t want to apologize, but just to tell me how disgusted he is about what we did last night? 

I try to keep my cool nonetheless, clearing my throat as I look at him. “So?”

Snow’s cheeks turn red, and he looks down at his feet. It makes me feel a little better. He’s less intimidating like that. 

“I…” he starts. “I’m sorry for last night. I was panicking and I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have talked to you like I did. I… _I_ did something wrong, not you.”

I guess it’s a bit better to be _something wrong_ than to be a _mistake._

“I didn’t want to make you feel bad. I… the last thing I want is to make you feel bad, and I’m sorry I’m so terrible at it.”

I hum. I don’t know what to say to him. I’m not sure there’s _something_ to say. 

Have we ever had anything to _say_ to each other? 

It was always physical with Snow. 

When we hated each other, we fought. We yelled, but it was always meant to have the same effect as a blow. To hurt. We used words as a substitute for fists because the Anathema prevented us from hitting each other in our room.

Then, when we got together, he’d make everything go through touch. He’d stroke my cheek gently, kiss me softly to say _I love you_ before he was capable of getting the words out. He’d let me hold him through his nightmares instead of telling me about them. He’d make love to me to show me he cared. Even when everything else was wrong, we still fucked, because that was always right. 

Because it was always physical with Snow. 

We rarely truly _talked_ , and when we did, it generally didn’t end well. 

“Anything else?” I eventually say, cocking an eyebrow because I know it irritates him.

He bites his lip. 

Merlin, there _is_ something else.

I tense again. What is he thinking about?

“I… I know that you said no to that when we broke up, but that was a long time ago, and… you know… things have changed now,” he says, glancing at Lamb. “So I was… erm…” He clears his throat, rubbing the heels of his hands against his thighs. “I was wondering if we could maybe try to be friends,” he says as he finally looks up to me. The intensity of his blue eyes almost makes me take a step back. “The Crucible gave me you, Baz, and I believe it’s for a reason. You were meant to be in my life, one way or another, I’m sure of this. I can’t bear the situation we’ve been in since we broke up. I… We’re supposed to be more than strangers with memories.”

The words take my breath away, and it seems like my heart is being held tightly in a strong hand. It’s suffocating.

He wants to be friends.

He _still_ wants to be friends, it wasn’t just something he said when he broke up to let me down more gently. 

I shoot a panicked glance at Lamb without even thinking about it. My eyes automatically go to him as I feel his crushing anxiety rise inside me.

His hand is against mine, squeezing it. I can almost hear him say ‘ _You’re alright Baz’_ even if his mouth is shut. 

_Friends._

_Try to be friends._

That never worked.

We tried to be friends, and we were tumbling in bed within a month.

 _Friends._

I think of the last months, since I moved back to London. Of how peaceful and enjoyable life has been since I pulled myself together. Of how good it feels to go to bed at night without an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

I think of evenings spent in the euphoria of either part of the club, the faint anxiety I feel there eased by the knowledge that Lamb is looking out for me, and that when he isn’t, his employees do so for him. 

I think of long nights in his bed, rediscovering the meaning of the word pleasure each time his skin is on mine. 

I think of early mornings in his flat, sitting between his legs on the patio, my head resting on his knee and his hand playing with my hair absentmindedly as we watch the city come awake, hot coffee down our throats.

Then I think of the three nights when I saw Simon Snow since then.

The first time, on his birthday, when I felt so on edge I picked the first bloke willing to put his dick inside me and fucked him in the bathroom of the club, my heart pounding from anger and frustration.

The second time, when he had this nightmare. When I drove through London in the middle of the night, fear and worry eating away at me, making me feel sick, to go to him. 

The third time, last night, when he made me feel so good, and then so bad. When sadness and hurt made me break down in Lamb’s arms in a way I never had before. 

I think about how hollow I felt each time once he was gone.

It was all so intense.

 _Too_ intense, and not in a good way. 

The words Lamb said to me earlier come back to my mind.

_I’m not asking you what Simon wants. I’m asking what you want._

What _I_ want. Not what _Simon_ wants.

Do I want to be friends with him?

A part of me always longs for his attention and his presence in my life. So yes, I suppose.

But do I want to be taken by the storm that he is again? Do I want the chaos? Do I want the overwhelming emotions, the constant ache?

_No._

“Baz?” he says, because it’s taking me so long to answer.

_What you want, what you want, what you want._

“No,” I answer. His face falls. “I… I don’t want to be friends with you. Not now. This is not a definite no, I simply… I’m not ready to let you back in my life just yet. I need time. I… I didn’t have the luxury of spending the months after the break up healing. Things only got worse and worse for me, until recently.” My hand squeezes Lamb’s on its own accord. “I… I’m _finally_ able to exist without my life completely revolving around you. To feel like I’m _someone,_ and not just a character in your story. I need that. I need… I need to learn to live for _me_ before I let you in again.”

I’m not sure where this is all coming from. I didn’t realize I felt that way until I said it, but now that the words are out of my mouth, I realize that it’s true. 

Since I met him, I’ve been a puppet he pulled the strings of, a soulless doll deprived of true free will.

When he hated me, when what he wanted from me was antagonism, I was cold, mocking, cruel. I rarely let myself be nice to him like I wanted to be. When he loved me, when what he wanted from me was affection, I was kinder, attentive, tender. I rarely let myself be mean to him, even when cruel words were burning my tongue. 

**…**

**Simon**

It hurts.

It hurts _so much._

But I suppose that’s fair.

I needed to distance myself from Baz in order to get better. I can’t blame him for needing to distance himself from me to get better.

But the things he said…

I’ve been so toxic for him and I wasn’t even aware of it. I knew Baz loved me and that I was very important to him but I didn’t think it was this much… I didn’t know that he _always_ made me come first, causing himself to… to feel like he was nothing but a ‘ _character in my story.’._

Now that I know this…

I understand. I understand why we can’t be friends now. God, I would understand if he never wanted me back in his life.

So I gather up all of my courage not to start crying, and I nod.

**…**

**Baz**

“Okay… I… I’ll leave you alone then,” Snow says, his voice weak and his shoulders hunched. 

It hurts to see him like this, but I don’t let myself change my mind. He didn’t, when he asked me to leave. He watched me pack my things and didn’t say a word as I walked out of the door. If he was strong enough to do it, I can do it too. 

“Thank you. Goodbye, Simon.”

“Bye, Baz,” he breathes out. “When... If you ever change your mind… Please let me know.”

I pretend not to notice the way his voice breaks, and I nod.

And then I watch him walk out of the door, not saying a word. 

**…**

**Lamb**

It doesn’t take Baz a long time to tug on my hand, silently asking that I take him in my arms. I do, holding him as gently as I can, stroking his back. 

His breathing is a little uneven, but I don’t think he’s going to cry. 

I kiss his hair. “I’m so proud of you.”

“It hurts,” he says, his voice muffled by my clothes.

“I know. But you made the right choice. I’m glad you did what you think is best for you. You’re so strong, Baz.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not. I’m… I’m running away instead of fighting for him.”

One of my hands leave his back to rest on his jaw, making him tilt his chin up so that our eyes can meet.

“This is not what’s happening. You don’t _have_ to ‘fight for’ Simon if it is not something that you believe would be beneficial to you at this very moment. You’re not running away, you’re doing what you need to do to get better, even if it hurts. It can be so incredibly difficult, seemingly impossible, even, to cut off people you love because they’re not good for you, it _is_ brave to have done it. So brave.”

I mean it. I hope he knows I mean it. 

Baz usually believes the things I say to him, because he knows I’ve been walking this earth for a very long time and that I’ve personally experienced many things, which makes giving advice easier for me, so he should believe this too, even if he’s stubborn and won’t accept praise -which is quite ironic for someone who likes it so much in bed. 

He leans in to press a kiss to the corner of my lips. “Can we go home now? I’m not sure I can stay in this house much longer.”

**…**

**Baz**

Lamb and I try to leave without making a fuss. We hope we can simply go say goodbye and then go back to London, but of course, that’s not how it happens. 

Luckily enough my family is already gone, which is definitely a good thing, but Dev and Niall, and Niall’s mother and sister are still here -and Snow too, of course, but he’s nowhere to be seen. So when we walk in the room where they are to salute them, we are - _I am_ \- welcomed by Dev jumping off the couch.

“You motherfucker, you had sex with Snow?” 

I can’t tell if he’s angry or immensely amused by this.

I wince. “That’s none of your business.”

He slings his arm around my shoulders.

“I can’t believe you. And at my wedding. That’s such a fucking cliché? You do realize how ridiculous it is to hook up with your ex at a wedding, right?”

So amused, not angry. 

I can deal with that. I would really hate myself if I’d made Dev angry.

“Shut up,” I mumble, shrugging his arm off.

“Was it good at least?”

“Dev, for magic’s sake, shut the fuck up.”

He starts giggling. Bastard.

“Babe, come on,” Niall says, a smile in his voice. “Leave him alone.” He then looks at me. “You’re leaving, I assume?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“Alright then.”

He stands from his armchair, and walks towards me, pulling me into a quick hug. “When we come back from our honeymoon I want details about what happened with Snow, Basilton.”

I roll my eyes. He tries hard not to show it but he’s no better than Dev. Two annoying, nosy gossips, the pair of them. It’s a shame I love them so much.

**…**

**Lamb**

He sleeps practically the whole way back to London. It makes the drive quite boring for me, I’ve never really enjoyed driving, but he obviously needs it. I’ll try to coax him into going to bed at a rather decent hour tonight.

Or I could exhaust him so much that he has no choice but to fall from fatigue, that’s also a good plan. I’ll see if he’s in the mood for that. 

“Baz,” I say as I shake his shoulder softly. “Baz, wake up, we’ve arrived sweetheart.”

“Hm, already,” he groans as he opens his eyes. He pushes my hand away before rubbing his eyes.

Not a morning person.

A smile tugs at my lips. “It’s way past lunchtime, do you want to go somewhere nice to eat?”

He groans again.

“I want to go to _bed_.”

“You won’t sleep tonight if you go to bed now, baby.”

He yawns. “Then I won’t sleep tonight. Problem solved.”

I shake my head as I pat his thigh. “Come on, get out.”

I lean over his lap to open his door for him, then I push myself back and leave the car too.

He makes sure to show me how absolutely irritated he is to be awake the whole way to my flat, dragging his feet on the floor and stretching more than necessary. 

The moment we’re back in the flat, he lets himself fall face first on the couch, kicking his shoes off as part of his legs hangs from the armrest. 

I stay in the entrance for a moment, looking at him more fondly than I should allow myself to, before I eventually take my own shoes off -properly, bending down to unlace them- and hang my coat on the rack. 

Then, I walk towards him, and climb on the couch too -I _knew_ buying ones with a large space to sit was a good idea- straddling his thighs. 

I lower myself on him, aligning our bodies, and he groans again but I don’t think it’s from annoyance this time. 

I press a kiss to his neck, then the underside of his jaw, then behind his ear, before I whisper in it.

“Two options. We can go cuddle in bed until you fall asleep, and I let you sleep as long as you want.” I can tell he’s quite interested by the suggestion, he hums approvingly. “ _Or_ ,” I continue, kissing him once more. “I put your collar back on, and we eat something so that you have enough strength to get fucked until nightfall.” His whole body shudders. “Which one do you prefer?”

His answer is muffled by the couch, but I certainly don’t miss it.

“I want to eat sushi.”


	21. Chapter Twenty One

**Simon**

My first instinct when I come home is to pick Ollie up and head to Olivia’s. It’s what I do most of the time after I’ve been somewhere, I almost live in her flat now.

Well, I guess that this is something that belongs to the past now. I don’t think she’d appreciate me showing up at her place.

But at the same time… Maybe we should talk. I have apologies to make, and well, she hung up on me earlier so I don’t really have any idea how she’s taking the break up. 

I look down at Ollie, who’s currently trying to climb up my leg like when he was a kitten. I bend down to hold him up.

“Hey buddy. Do you think I should go talk to Liv now?”

He tilts his head when I say Olivia’s name, and then meows. I take that as a yes.

“Okay, thanks for your help Ollie.”

I kiss the top of his head and scratch the back of his ears before letting him go do whatever a cat does when it’s not busy tormenting its human. Probably planning my downfall or something. I’m sure Ollie loves me but he also looks like he’s plotting against me sometimes. 

And he loves Olivia more. 

I hope he’ll stop jumping on her balcony to get inside her flat now, but I don’t think my cat understands the concept of a break up.

In front of Liv’s door, I hesitate. After my conversation with Baz, I’m really not in the right headspace to face her, but at the same time, she deserves more than a phone call and shitty explanations.

So I knock.

It’s strange, knocking. I haven’t done that in so long here. It takes her a few seconds to open the door, and when she does, surprise writes itself all over her face before she controls herself and gives me a cold glance.

“Simon.”

“I… I just wanted to talk to you.”

“I’m not sure there’s anything left to say,” she says, resting her hand that isn’t on the door on her hip.

“Please, Liv, just let me explain…”

Her cheeks flush and anger flashes in her eyes. Yesterday was the angriest I’d ever seen her, and even then, she didn’t look _this_ angry. She’s kind of scary to be honest. 

“Explain what? That while I was here alone being miserable because I had to leave that bloody wedding I only went to for _you_ , you were fucking your ex? That you’ve been feeding me lies for months, pretending to love me when you knew damn well you still loved him? That I was just your fucking second choice, the best thing you could have while you couldn’t have him, but that you’d dump me without an hesitation the moment you could have him again? That this whole time I was so fucking in love with you and you were just playing me? I’ve understood all of that on my own already so what the _fuck_ do you want to explain, Simon!”

I feel tears spring to my eyes when I see those in Olivia’s. I hurt her _so much._

I never meant to hurt anyone, but it’s all I do apparently. Hurt the people I love. Make them feel miserable because I’m a bloody trainwreck and I keep fucking up good things. 

“I’m so sorry Olivia I… I only thought about myself and I _know_ that it’s wrong but I was selfish. I was happy with you and you seemed happy with me so I thought that it didn’t matter whether or not I still loved Baz, and now I realize that _of course_ it mattered, and I wish I’d realized sooner and I had ended things between us before you fell in love with me or… or I would have never dated you in the first place. It was unfair to you to maintain this relationship when I knew that I wasn’t in love with you, and I’m really sorry for that. And I know that sorry isn’t enough, and that it’s even _less_ enough when it comes to what I did with Baz but I’m truly sorry for that too. Once again I only thought about myself. I understand that you’re angry with me, the way I treated you was absolutely horrible, but I want you to know that I still love you Liv, even if I don’t love you that way. I really, really, really do and I hope you don’t think that I don’t care about you because that’s not true at all. You matter so much to me.”

“You _cheated_ on me, Simon,” she says, her voice strangled with emotion. 

I can tell she’s trying hard to hold back her tears. It’s killing me. 

“I know. I’m sorry Liv. I’m so fucking sorry. I fucked up, and I know it but I swear I’m not lying when I say I care for you. I… I know it’s a lot to ask, but I don’t want to lose you, Olivia. So… if you want… I… Maybe we could be friends again? Not necessarily now,” I add, thinking of how Baz said _no_ but he said no _for now_. “But… I would like to make it up to you somehow, and well I’m a terrible boyfriend but I think I’m a better friend. Penny wouldn’t have put up with me for so long if I wasn’t,” I say with a bit of a forced laugh, in a desperate attempt to make this situation less tense and uncomfortable.

Olivia looks at me for a moment, silent, probably thinking about what she wants to tell me. Eventually, she sighs. 

“I want to take some time for myself and away from you, until I stop feeling so… angry when I think of you. But… I’d like to be friends with you again, Simon.” She gives me a weak smile, and just the fact that she’s _trying_ despite how awful I’ve been to her makes me feel warm inside. She’s such an amazing girl. “I’d actually have to pay someone to take pictures for my shop if I couldn’t exploit you.”

I know she doesn’t mean anything bad with those words, so they make me laugh. Something short and breathy, showing my surprise at her comment.

Olivia’s smile seems a little less fake. 

“Thank you, Liv. Thank you so much.”

She shakes her head, in a way that means _‘don’t mention it’._

“Out of my sight now. I’m still mad at you.”

That’s fair.

I laugh nervously. “Yeah, alright.”

I turn around, and as I head towards the stairs to climb back up to my floor, I hear her voice from behind, calling my name. 

“What?” I ask as I look at her over my shoulder.

There’s an amused gleam in her eyes. “I want shared custody of Ollie.”

I laugh, a real, loud laugh this time.

**…**

It’s been a week and a half and I feel like I’m dying.

Knowing that Baz doesn’t want me in his life at the moment because I’m just that bad for him and his mental health, and that Olivia doesn’t want to see me either because I’ve been a cunt…

It’s awful.

I’m so _alone_.

The first couple of days were fine, it wasn’t the first time I was just with Ollie for a moment, and it allowed me to do things that I wouldn’t necessarily do around Penny or Liv. Like those adult colouring books I bought some day because the cover looked pretty and I never really got to colour anything when I was a kid so I wanted to make up for lost time without completely humiliating myself by buying a kids colouring book. I was a bit scared that Penny or Olivia -especially Penny, she can be quite judgmental- would make fun of me for doing something as silly as this. But since the only person who can judge me right now is Ollie and that he couldn’t care less what I do so long as he’s fed and cuddled, I had some fun with the colouring books. I also cooked more complicated meals than usual, since I had so much time on my hands. The only problem about that was that I got used to cooking for two so I always made too much, even with a recipe. 

But after those first few days, it all went down.

I’m getting restless, because I try to occupy myself as much as I can not to think about the fact that I’m _alone_ , so fucking alone, since Olivia won’t talk to me and Penny is still in America -she prolonged her stay before I felt like my life was falling apart. She had asked, teasingly but with some seriousness to the question, if I wouldn’t be too lost without her for a few more weeks and I said it’d be fine. I was fucking wrong.

It’s not like I could have predicted this, though.

How could I have known, two weeks ago, that I would have sex with Baz at Dev and Niall’s wedding, which would lead to Olivia and I breaking up and not seeing each other anymore for as long as she needs. 

And _I know_ that it’s all my fault I’m in this situation right now, but it still fucking _hurts_.

But being alone during the day isn’t the worst… It’s oppressive at times and definitely not something I enjoy, but it’s _bearable_. 

At night, however…

This forced solitude, the knowledge that I have _no one_ to go to if I need it…

It brings me back to the care homes.

When the lights of my room are off and I’m lying on top of the covers, as I am right now, I can hear the sounds of other boys shifting in bed, whispering to each other, snoring, talking in their sleep. There’s never silence, always some background noise disturbing what could be peace if this was any other place. 

It’s hot, it’s so hot, it’s much too hot. It’s always much too hot in here. 

Even lying _on top_ of the covers and not under them is too hot.

I untuck them and push them away with my feet. Away but not out of the bed. You’re grounded if you let your covers on the floor. There are enough for everyone, but some are very old and thin. If you’re so unhappy with your covers that you push them on the floor, they take them and give them to someone who will appreciate them, and they give you covers as thin as a sheet, and you have to keep them, in the summer but all throughout the other season too. 

I flip my pillow to get the fresh side and pull on the collar of my shirt. We have to sleep in the pyjamas they give us, we’re not allowed to sleep shirtless. Some boys still do it, but I don’t want to be punished, so I don’t.

I toss and turn some more, pushing the pillow away too and resting my head directly on the mattress.

I forgot to go to the loo before bed and now I need to go but moving around the room while not everyone is asleep is a dangerous game. Some boys like to throw their legs or arms out of their bed if you get too close -and the room is so narrow, you always get too close to someone- to make you trip or simply scare you. If you trip and you fall, or if you shout in surprise, you make too much noise and one of the workers comes to tell you to shut up, and they wake you up earlier than everyone else in the morning because since you didn’t want to let the others get their sleep, you don’t get to sleep in.

I’ve eaten today but my stomach still feels empty. I press down on it as I turn again, burying my face against the mattress and trapping my hands under my stomach.

I wish I wasn’t alone. I wish there was someone next to me.

I long for the comforting presence of a warm body.

Or a cold body.

A cold body that doesn’t smell of anything because the cologne has faded. 

**…**

_10 months_

**Baz**

Lamb’s body under mine feels so safe. 

He doesn’t mind me sleeping on top of him, says he doesn’t mind being crushed, and that anyway I’m not that heavy, so more often than not, this is how we sleep. I’m surprised he isn’t tired of how clingy I can get, honestly. I’ve always loved touch, though for so long I shied away from it, afraid to be _too much_. 

What would have my father said, when I was 5 and cried my eyes out thinking about the fact that Mummy would never come home again, if I’d snuggled with him until my eyes were dry?

What would have Dev said, when we were 6, 7, if I had asked him to hold my hand when we were running next to one another in the gardens of the manor?

What would have Fiona said, when I was 10 and was angry at the world because my father was moving on and I wasn’t, if I’d lied down on her bed, pressed up against her, playing with her hair until I fell asleep like when I was a little kid. 

What would have Niall said, when we were 13, 14, if I’d climbed on his bed and asked him for hugs as often as I wanted to? 

What would have Daphne said, when I was 15 and felt like my life was falling apart, if I’d laid my head on her lap and cried with my face buried against her stomach?

I could never know that. I have no way of finding out if I would really have been too much for them, or if they would have been okay with that.

The only thing I know is that now, when I give Lamb a specific look, that he knows well enough now, he nods and lets me take whatever I want from him. 

With Lamb it’s always yes. 

Whether it’s holding his hand as we walk through the streets, or sitting next to or between his legs and resting my head on his knee when he’s working at his desk or relaxing with a drink on the patio, or cuddling with him on the couch, talking softly about everything and anything, or holding him and being held by him through the night ; it’s always yes. 

I wonder if he says yes to other people too.

The thought makes me cringe.

Realistically, I know Lamb probably isn’t fucking anyone else. I’m with him practically 24/7, and whenever I’m not with him it’s because I’m at the club, but I’ve never come back to his flat unannounced and found him in bed with someone else, so I don’t _think_ there is someone else. Or multiple someone elses. His employees have told me that before me, he rarely spent more than one night with someone. 

Knowing that both makes me glad and even more confused.

I’m glad because somehow he likes fucking me enough to want me again, and again, and again. He’s serious enough about this to have given me the card to open his apartment and put a collar around my neck when I asked him to.

But at the same time I’m confused because there’s no way he’d jump from years -maybe decades, time is always a tricky thing with him- of casual one night stands to whatever our relationship is. He _must_ have people on the side, I can’t possibly be enough for him.

The thought used not to bother me. During the first few weeks, I didn’t care if Lamb had sex with other people. Now the thought of him with some unknown man or woman in this bed where I’ve spent so many hours chanting his name makes me mildly sick. 

I know it shouldn’t. Lamb has been very clear that he wasn’t my boyfriend, even if he allowed me to call him that, and that we weren’t exclusive, but I can’t help feeling uncomfortable.

It’s not even really the sex part that makes me uncomfortable, it’s the intimacy. What drives me mad, it’s imagining him whispering ‘sweetheart’s and ‘love’s in someone else’s ear, cleaning them up with careful hands and feeding them some of those snacks he stocks as he tells them sweet words of comfort, running them a hot bath with those fancy relaxing essential oils he has too many of.

I don’t know if he has sex with everyone the same way he had sex with me for the first time, but if he does, they all get that treatment -Lamb is quite serious about aftercare. It makes me want to scream.

Even worse, the mere thought of someone else on their knees in front of him, calling him Sir, makes my blood boil.

“Baby, is there something troubling you?”

His voice startles me. I was so lost in my own head I didn’t even notice that he had woken up.

Now that I _have_ noticed, I can feel the tip of his fingers going up and down my back softly while his other hand is on my arse, not quite squeezing it but not only barely resting on it either.

I give him a small smile, kissing the corner of his lips.

“There is, actually,” I admit.

Some time ago, I would have never dared. I’d have let myself be upset about it without telling Lamb anything. But after all the talks he gave me about _communication_ , I feel like this is something I can tell him, even if I’m a bit scared it’s going to piss him off. 

“What is it?”

I hesitate for a moment, trying to find the right words, but when they come out of my mouth, they still don’t sound right.

“I _know_ that you’ve told me from the beginning that we could both fuck other people and that I was okay with that, and I _know_ that I don’t have a right to be jealous and that I _can’t_ ask anything of you considering what I did with Simon at the wedding, and…”

“Baz,” he interrupts me, both of his hands, as firm as his voice, moving to my hips and holding me there.

“What did I tell you about wanting things?”

I bite my lip. “That it’s okay.”

“And it is. So tell me what you want.”

“I… If it was okay with you… I would like it if… maybe… you could…” I clear my throat. “Not have sex with other people. Well, not have sex with other people _alone_ , I… If you want to fuck someone else for whatever reason, I… I think it would be alright as long as I’m not… excluded. You’re always joking about threesomes, anyway,” I say, chuckling nervously. “But you don’t have to of course if you want to hook up with other people I can’t force you not to.”

If I were human my cheeks would probably be burning right now. I feel so bad asking that of him. He’s been so amazing to me, none of the rules he’s set are a bother to me, and I thank him by asking something so _selfish._

His hands on my hips become softer, stroking the skin.

“First of all, I’d like to clarify that I _haven’t_ had sex with anyone else since I first had sex with you. So as for your _wish_ , it doesn’t seem like a hard one to grant. If you don’t want me to fuck other people, I won’t.”

My eyes go wide in surprise. I didn’t think he’d say yes. 

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I am, sweetheart. I told you you were allowed to have boundaries, and I didn’t mean it only in bed. I want you to be comfortable with all aspects of this relationship, Baz. It can’t work if you’re not. If you asked something of me that made _me_ uncomfortable then it would be more complicated, but it’s not the case right now.” He kisses my shoulder. “I have you, and you’re so perfect for me. I don’t need anyone else.”

**…**

**Simon**

I’m trying to recover from yet another terrible night by watching some kids cartoons with Ollie on my lap when I hear knocking on my door. 

It surprises me, but I jump on my feet the moment Ollie isn’t on me anymore. There’s someone at my door. I’m going to _see_ someone. _Talk_ to someone.

I stay stunned when I see who it is.

Olivia.

She’s wearing one of her dresses, a beautiful blue one with butterflies sewn on it, that look like they’re flying on and round her, and she has makeup on her face.

She gives me a smile that makes me want to cry, because it’s so _Olivia_. It’s a smile exactly like those she used to give me.

“Do you want to come and take some pictures for me?”


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “In the heat of the fight I walked away  
> Ignoring words that you were saying trying to make me stay  
> I said this time I've had enough  
> And you've called a hundred times but I'm not pickin' up  
> 'Cause I'm so mad, I might tell you that it's over  
> But if you look a little closer  
> I said leave but all I really want is you  
> To stand outside my window, throwing pebbles, screaming I'm in love with you  
> Wait there in the pourin' rain, come back for more!  
> And don't you leave 'cause I know all I need is on  
> The other side of the door  
> Me and my stupid pride sittin' here alone  
> Going through the photographs, staring at the phone  
> I keep going back over the things we both said  
> And I remember the slammin' door and all the things that I misread  
> So babe if you know everything tell me why you couldn't see  
> That when I left I wanted you to chase after me?”  
> — The Other Side of the Door, Taylor Swift

_A year_

**Lamb**

Baz has been on edge all day long. He probably thinks I haven’t noticed, since I haven’t mentioned it, but I _have_. 

He’s been biting his nails, for one, something he almost never does except when he’s anxious about something. He didn’t complain about lunch, despite the fact that there were mushrooms in the food and he hates mushrooms. He’s been wearing his earphones an insane amount of time, the music loud enough for me to hear it like he was playing it without the earphones. 

And now, he’s been sitting on the floor, leaning against my leg, as always, his laptop open and his hands hovering over the keyboard without ever touching it for the past 2 hours. He hasn’t written a single word since that first sentence right after he joined me in my office, even though usually, nothing in the world could stop him when he’s started writing. It can become a problem, at times, when he won’t even stop to sleep or have a meal. 

I’m going to wait until we go to bed to bring it up, though. It’s more relaxed to talk there, and I think he could use a calming environment. 

I tap his shoulder.

“I’m exhausted. Come to bed with me?”

He nods. “Yeah,” he says with a sigh as he closes his document.

I let him turn off his laptop without moving my leg, and only stand up when he does. 

He drags himself to the bedroom, and I follow, watching his tense shoulders.

We both undress, Baz with his back to me -he’s shy about undressing in front of me except when he makes a show out of him because I asked him to, it’s adorable- and then we get into bed. I was a little afraid he would stay on his side of it, which would really have proved that whatever was on his mind was something _wrong_ , but thankfully, he crawls to me until he’s lying practically completely on top of me, with his head resting above my heart. He says he can hear it, and that listening to it helps him fall asleep, because the rhythm is so slow. 

I let him settle comfortably, enjoying the weight of him on me. He doesn’t realize it, he seems to think this relationship only goes one way when it comes to these things, but feeling his body pressed on mine, heavy and strong, it’s a comfort for me. It had been decades since I last had one person to fall asleep with and wake up to all the time, and I’m starting to wonder how I even spent so many nights alone. 

I pull the covers over us slowly, because I know Baz likes the feeling of them going up his naked body, and I stop once I reach his neck, tucking the covers under his shoulders to make sure they won’t slip. My own shoulders are going to freeze, I know it, it has been like that since the summer ended and the room started being colder at night, but it’s a minor inconvenience compared to not having Baz lying down on me. If I really wanted to be warm, I’d put a shirt on.

I let my hand slide in his hair, smiling at his pleased sigh.

“Is there something on your mind sweetheart? You’ve seemed preoccupied all day long.”

He tenses almost imperceptibly.

Almost.

“It’s just…” he says, his finger tapping my arm nervously. “Tomorrow is a day quite filled with bad memories. I… Simon and I went through something difficult on Halloween two years ago, and last year well… we broke up.”

My hand stills in his hair for a moment when he says Simon’s name ; Baz so rarely talks about him, but I start stroking his hair again quickly enough. 

“You never told me how it happened…” I comment. “Your break up, I mean.”

“Do you want to know?”

I kiss the top of his head. “If you don’t mind sharing.”

He shifts, grabbing my wrist to put my hand on his back and slips his own arms under my back. They’re going to be numb if he leaves them there too long. 

“Our relationship was really… messy. There were never really true moments of calm, one of us was always going through something difficult, on top of all the baggage we already had from our respective pasts and our past relationship too. Simon and I hated each other for years before we started dating. So really our couple was a complete disaster, but I was so in love with him, I wanted to find a way to fix it, you know? And I knew that Simon sometimes doubted my feelings and that he was afraid I’d leave him for someone else, so I thought that maybe if I proposed, he’d understand that I was serious about this, about _us._ That’s not how it went. I proposed, and he said no, and he broke up,” he finishes, his voice getting weaker as his fingers dig in the flesh of my back.

I make my hand on his own back heavier, rubbing circles as I apply pressure, keeping him as close to me as I physically can.

A proposal is something I only risked once, when I was human, and I was told yes. 

After that, I knew there was no point. If I married a mortal, they would eventually die. If I married an immortal, they would eventually tire of me, and me of them. I don’t believe love is forever. 

I have no idea how it may feel, being told no, but I assume it must be trying for anyone.

It must have shattered Baz. 

I kiss his head again. 

“I’m sorry love.”

“It was awful,” he whispers. “I thought it would kill me when I lost him.”

“It didn’t,” I comment stupidly. 

I can give good advice, but emotional support isn’t my strong suit.

 _Feelings._ I’m not good with them. 

“It almost did,” Baz says bitterly. “My scars… That’s when they’re from.” 

I feel his scars burning my skin where they’re pressed against it as he talks about them. I forget that they’re here most of the time, even if I obviously can see them when he’s naked. I never mentioned them though, it wasn’t my place, we all have our past, but I can’t say I didn’t have questions about them. 

I hate to think about the fact that he once felt like he needed to do that to himself. 

“It wasn’t _just_ because of Simon of course,” he continues. “It was the accumulation of… everything

else in my life, really, and the fact that I wasn’t getting treatment back then. I hit a very low point. But that doesn’t matter,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s all in the past. I’m doing better now. But yeah, that’s how the break up went. It wasn’t ideal.”

I hum.

“So that’s what you’re troubled about? Bad memories?” 

He takes a few seconds to answer. 

“Yes and no. The thing is… It’s going to be a difficult day for me but I know it will be worse for Simon… I… I wish I could be with him,” he admits, as he moves his arms from underneath me, probably because he was starting to lose feeling in them. 

“You could be with him, if you wanted to. You know he would like to be your friend, I’m sure he’d be glad to see you.”

It has been a little over two months since they last saw each other, and Baz has clearly grown since then. He gets that sad expression that I know is caused by memories of Simon less and less often. He doesn’t just live through the days because there’s no way to stop time anymore, he has found something that motivates him, something he enjoys doing ; writing that book of his. He gets excited when he talks to me about it in a way he was never about anything before. He’s getting better at speaking his mind, and at making decisions for himself without taking the opinions of others into account or caring too much about what people may think.

It seems that distancing himself from Simon after their intimate moment at his friends’ wedding was truly beneficial for him.

Considering all of that, I don’t think he needs to maintain this distance anymore. 

“I know, but at the same time, I’m scared of seeing him again.”

“It’s normal to be scared, you’ve gotten used to how your life was without him in it, having him back, even just for a day, it’s going to be a change, but I’m sure you can do it. You’ll regret it more if you don’t go than if you do and it doesn’t go well.”

“You really think so?” he asks, looking up at me for the first time since we got into bed. 

His grey eyes are full of doubt and questions. He looks like a lost, helpless kitten. 

I give him a smile. “I do. In my opinion, you should go. But the choice is yours, of course.”

**…**

**Simon**

I knew today would be hard, but it’s considerably harder than I thought. I woke up this morning feeling sad and hollow, the empty space in my bed seeming bigger and colder than usual. 

I don’t know what hurts the most. 

Thinking about Halloween two years ago, when I lost my magic, or thinking about Halloween last year, when I lost Baz. 

Being a Normal is starting to be bearable. I still have this hole inside me that I know will never be filled, not unless I somehow get my magic back, a foolish idea I used to fantasize about much too often but that I have given up on now. It’s just not how it works. Magic is a privilege I never deserved, as shown by the fact that mine was never truly _mine_ and that I had to give it up.

Something I _can_ get back though, it’s a good relationship with Baz. Hopefully. If he wants me. I don’t think I deserve him any more than I deserve my magic, but Baz has always given me things I didn’t deserve -his home, his care, his love- so maybe… maybe someday he will think I’m worth being in his life again. 

I wish he had already decided I was worth it, because I’m sure today would be more bearable with him, but I can’t blame him for not having contacted me yet.

His new life seems good, after all. He still has Niall and Dev, whom he can visit as often as he wishes. He has his boyfriend, who seems to be great with him from what I saw at the wedding -which is why I hate the bloke so fucking much, I could _never_ have Baz as my boyfriend ever again after he had someone like that. He’s probably at Oxford at the moment, he was supposed to go this year, after the one he should have spent with me. 

Why would he want to risk changing this beautiful life for me?

Before I can start wallowing in self-pity, I get out of bed to go make some coffee. 

Liv is coming soon, we’re having a photoshoot for her shop today, and she demands I prepare a thermos of coffee. I make it better than her, apparently. 

Ollie meows in a demanding way, rubbing his head against my calf repeatedly. God, this cat is so annoying.

I bend down to pick him up, letting him sit on the counter like I know he wants to. I pet him as I pour coffee in a thermos, and then I have to stop stroking him to close the thermos.

He jumps from the counter when someone knocks on the door. 

I shout a “Come in,” and hear the door open, and then Olivia shuffling in my flat as I take two cups out to pour ourselves some of the coffee left in the pot. 

I can picture her, with that mannequin of hers wearing the dress she will model today and her bag full of makeup and hair products, walking to the living room, leaving all of her stuff there before heading to the kitchen. 

“ _Salut Simon!”_

Now that she doesn’t call me _mon coeur_ anymore when she says hi to me, she says my name in french and I hate it. She knows I hate it. I’m sure that’s why she does it. 

“Hey, Liv,” I tell her.

She sits on the counter, where my cat was a minute ago, and grabs one of the cups, already sipping on it. 

“Fuck, that’s hot,” she curses moving her cup away so quickly that some coffee splashes around. Not on any of us, thankfully. 

I try to bite back a laugh. “I just made it, of course it’s hot.”

“You could have warned me,” she mumbles as she puts the cup down, glaring at it like it’s the reason for everything wrong in her life. 

I smile.

Today won’t be easy, but maybe with Liv here to distract me, and with Penny to call tonight, it’ll be easier. 

**…**

**Baz**

I’m nervous as I fix my hair in the large mirror of Lamb’s bathroom. 

I’m seeing Snow today, if I don’t lose my nerve. 

It’s exciting and frightening at the same time, two feelings that have always battled inside of me when I was with him. 

The thought of seeing his beautiful eyes, his freckles that must have started to be less visible by now, the summer long gone, his constellation of moles and his bright smile make my heart flutter.

The thought of being in the same room as him, of talking to him, or risking _fighting_ with him turns my stomach. 

I just want it to go _well_ but I’m not sure it will. I won’t take as much shit as I used to, I don’t want to make myself small to help Simon Snow feel bigger. 

Arms wrap around my waist, making me jump. I see a smile tug at Lamb’s lips in the mirror. 

“Afraid, love?”

I roll my eyes, which makes him smile wider.

“Hush. I was surprised, that’s all.”

“Hm, sure,” he says, kissing my neck, just over the bite marks he gave me two nights ago.

I have half a mind to hide them, for Snow’s sake, but at the same time, if Snow is uncomfortable with the few bruises and hickeys visible despite my clothes, that’s on him.

I’m making efforts for him already, I think as I say “Can you take my collar off, please?”

He kisses me again, lower, his lips brushing the leather of the collar. 

“Ask nicely,” he answers as he lets go of me, stepping back.

I turn around to face him, and I sink to my knees on the cold black tiles, my head low and my eyes fixed on the floor.

I’m not allowed to look up to make sure of it, but I’m certain Lamb has this smirk he always has on his face when I obey well and quickly. 

“Could you please take my collar off, Sir?”

I hear him reach inside his shirt, taking the chain with the key to open the collar on it. He passes the chain over his head, then walks around me. He places his fingers carefully on the collar before unlocking it. He lets go of one side to me able to take it off my neck, and puts the key and the collar down on the bathroom counter.

“Thank you, Sir.”

He hasn’t told me to stand up yet, so I don’t, listening as he comes back in front of me. 

His hand falls on my chin, holding it firmly and tilting it up. 

I keep my gaze low until he tells me to look up.

Lamb is a handsome man in general, but I must say he’s particularly good looking from here. 

“Remind me of the rules.”

I recite them automatically. Those rules have changed, since the first time he locked the collar around my neck, for our relationship has changed too, but they’re still not hard to remember or apply. 

I’m not allowed to do anything from flirting to fucking someone else without asking for his permission first. I’m not allowed to get on my knees for someone else, for any reason. I have to ask him if I want to stay out past the time he gave me. I’m not allowed to drink, do drugs, or bite a human. If I need him, I have to call him even if I think I shouldn’t. I’m still his sub even if the collar isn’t here to show it to people. He’s still my Dom even if the collar isn’t here for me to feel it. 

When I’m done saying all of this, he taps the bottom of my chin, a signal for me to stand up. 

He gives me a smile once I’m up on my feet, before cupping my face, tilting it down to kiss my forehead.

“Have fun today, baby.”

**…**

**Simon**

Watching Olivia put her makeup on really is a whole show. It’s crazy the things she can do to her face.

I tried once. I couldn’t draw a straight line with her eyeliner.

Today she’s going for a, quote unquote, ‘vampire look’, applying white powder to her face to appear even paler, drawing dark circles under her eyes to look sickly, painting her lips blood red and doing a simple but elegant dark makeup look on her eyelids.

Right now she’s putting red contacts on. I think this particular detail is unnecessary, we both know for a fact that vampires don't have red eyes, but it does look good, and that’s what really matters when we take pictures. 

She’s taking her second contact when the intercom rings.

We glance at each other, confused. 

“Who’s that?” she asks me.

“No idea,” I answer, shrugging.

Niall texts me when he visits, and I don’t have any other friends in London since Penny is still doing God knows what with Shepard in America.

I stand up and walk to the entrance hall, answering the intercom.

“Hello?”

My heart stops when I hear the voice on the other side.

“Hey, it’s Baz.”


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “ Hello, it's me  
> I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet  
> To go over everything”  
> — Hello, Adele

**Simon**

Time has stopped.

The words ring in my ears, completely surreal. _Hey, it’s Baz._

I can barely believe it. Baz is on my doorstep. Baz is only a few flights of stairs away from me. 

Baz is _here_. 

“Snow?” his voice rings through the intercom again. 

“Yeah, yeah, hi,” I say precipitately. I don’t want him to think I don’t want him to come up.

I don’t want him to _leave._ Not again.

He laughs nervously. It makes me feel a little better to know that he’s probably freaking out as much as I am right now. 

“Are you going to open?” he asks.

I had forgotten he didn’t have the keys anymore. It’s been a year -a whole 12 months, goddamn- and yet I didn’t think he’d need me to open to come in.

“Yeah, of course,” I say as I press the button. “You’re good, you can come in.”

“Alright,” he breathes out, and then nothing.

I stay there for a few seconds, not moving, not talking, not _thinking_ before it hits me.

Baz is going to be here. In a matter of seconds. 

“Olivia, you have to leave,” I say as I run back to the living room, my heart pounding in my chest. “I’m sorry but I can’t do the photoshoot right now.”

“What? Why? Who is it?” she asks, confused, as she starts picking her things up nonetheless. 

“Baz,” I answer, and it feels crazy to say it. 

“Oh. Alright, I’m leaving them. If you’re free to take pictures later today, text me okay?”

I help her put her makeup inside her back hurriedly.

“God, thank you,” I say with a relieved sigh.

I’d have hated to make Olivia upset, but at the same time, I can’t have her here as Baz comes. This is too big of a moment for Olivia to be here to witness it. 

I practically push her outside of my flat the moment she’s put her arm around her mannequin, which, I admit, is kind of rude, but _Baz is coming_ and it’s all I can think about.

She’s giggling, so she mustn't be too bothered, though. 

When she starts going down the stairs. I realize that she’s probably going to meet Baz there. It’s not a particularly pleasant thought, though I’m not sure why. Baz has no reason not to like that I’m hanging out with Olivia, she’s just a friend now and besides, he has a boyfriend. 

I don’t even close the door to pretend that it wasn’t open or that I’m not waiting for him, and just stand here, on my door frame, excitement buzzing under my skin.

Baz is coming, Baz is coming, Baz is com…

Baz is here.

Fuck, Baz is here.

I lean against the door frame, resting my weight on it because I’m afraid my legs are going to give up on me. 

He’s so fucking beautiful.

Yes, I know, I’m shallow, but he _really_ is.

My heart broke a little bit on my birthday when I saw he had cut his hair -a crime, truly, who the fuck allowed him to do that- but now it has grown back a little, enough to reach his chin. It was about that length in fourth year, after he had started growing it in third. It’s adorable. 

His shirt isn’t unbuttoned the way they used to be, which is a pity, but the shirt being closed also has its perks. It’s snug. 

Baz really has a great body, Jesus Christ. 

I shake that thought. I shouldn’t think about how his body looks. He isn’t mine anymore. Someone else touches that body, sees that body. 

When Baz was mine, when I was the one touching and seeing that body, I would have hated for someone else to think about it in the way I’m thinking about it now. Admiring it. Fantasizing about it.

He stops in front of me and I stop breathing. 

“Hello,” he says with an uneasy smile, that looks really strange on him.

Baz always appeared so confident. 

“Hi,” I answer, my throat dry.

**…**

**Baz**

He’s such a disaster.

He looks like he’s about to faint. 

He’s slumped against the door frame, and his voice sounds funny. His eyes are still a bit wide, they have been since he first laid them on me.

“Are you going to move or do I have to stay on your doorstep?” I tease him with a small smile. 

I’m making fun of him but I’m really no better. I feel a little weak in the knees and I’m sure I’d be sweating if I could. 

“Oh, yeah, sorry, uh, well, come in,” he stammers as he steps aside, the door wide open.

I have a second of hesitation. This flat is a one way trip back to last year, when I still lived here and Simon was still my boyfriend.

A trip back to a time when, in retrospect, I was miserable, but felt happier than I ever was because I got to sneak in Simon Snow’s bed at night. A time when Simon Snow was my whole life, when I could only see my future by his side because I couldn’t imagine a life without him in it. A time when I bought this flat despite not liking it _at all_ because it was the one Snow preferred.

I take a look at him, at the worried line on his forehead and his tense smile, and I walk in.

It’s going to be okay. It’s just _Snow_ , and if I start feeling uncomfortable, I can leave.

It would be okay for me to leave. Even if it’s not what Simon wants. 

Before I take my coat off, I hand him the brown back from the bakery. Well, _hand him_ is a strong word. In truth, I push it against his chest, hoping he’ll grab it as I take my hand off it.

“For you,” I say, not looking at him, while taking my coat off.

**…**

**Simon**

For me?

He brought me something? 

I open the bag curiously, and my heart flutters when I see what it is.

Scones.

He brought me scones. Sour cherry, from the look of it. I know for a fact that they can’t be found in any bakery around here, I wonder where he went to buy them.

Just the fact that he made the effort or looking for a bakery that sold them to buy some for _me_ …

He’s so sweet. 

“You bought me scones,” I say, looking up at him with much more emotion in my voice than the situation requires.

I can barely believe that he’s here in the first place, but it makes me so emotional that he’d think of something like this. Such a little attention, but so significant. 

“Well, I know you like them,” he says with a shy smile before he bends down to unlace his shoes. 

“Yeah but you didn’t have to bring anything.”

You didn’t even have to come, I don’t say.

“I wanted to,” is all he answers as he straightens his back. As he does, his hair moves, allowing me to see that he has a tattoo I don’t think he had in August. A little sun behind his ear. 

He looks at me expectantly and I remember that he is at _my_ place, not just coming back home. “Do you want a drink? Tea? Coffee? Something cold?”

“Tea sounds lovely,”

I nod. “Follow me then,” I tell him as I start walking towards the kitchen. “I don’t have that tea with the posh name you like, though.”

“Darjeeling?”

“Yeah, that. It has a stupid name. Anyway, I only have earl grey so that’ll have to do.”

**…**

**Baz**

“It will,” I say, the corners of my lips curling up in a smile.

Snow remembers my favourite kind of tea. I didn’t even drink much tea back then, he’s very fond of coffee so when we went for a hot drink, it was coffee, more often than not. 

I sit around the kitchen as Snow busies himself with the kettle. I notice his hands are trembling a little as he fills it with tap water. 

As he stands in front of the stove, waiting for the water to be hot enough, probably also collecting himself, I’m brought back to a little over a year ago, when I’d sit here at night, with for only source of light the one over the stove, as Snow warmed up blood for me. 

He was always so careful with that, the blood never clogged and it was always the perfect temperature, as if it was fresh out of a warm body. He was so glad to be able to help with my feeding, because he knew how much hunting weighed on me, even if he preferred _helping_ by being bitten, which I used to blame him for before _I_ discovered what being bitten felt like.

Lamb said that it’s even better for humans.

I hear Snow pour water in cups as my hand goes up to my neck, my fingers brushing my bite marks. Not _those_ bite marks, but the ones Lamb gave me. I never thought it was something I’d enjoy so much, considering how much I despised the bite marks I had gotten on the day I was turned, but those Lamb give me aren’t tinted with bad memories. It’s something _given_ , not _forced._ It’s just another thing we can do in bed. 

Snow clears his throat when he puts my cup down in front of me, startling me. I let my hand fall back, and his eyes fly to my bite marks. His cheeks flush when he sees them, but I can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or anger. 

Not that he has _any right_ to be angry, but it’s Snow. He never liked feeling like I belonged to anyone else but him. Even when he hated me, I know he was upset when I gave someone attention while also ignoring him. 

“What’s that?” he asks, trying to sound relaxed as he takes his seat in front of me, his eyes still fixed on my neck.

I take my cup in hand, enjoying the slight burn on my palms. “I’m pretty sure you know what this is. You’re quite familiar with those, after all.”

I can tell from the way his pupils go wide that he’s thinking about those late nights when I would kiss and touch and lick and suck until he was on the edge of completion ; the moment I waited to sink my fangs in his flesh, bringing him to the heights of pleasure with the darkest part of my being. 

“But I don’t understand why you’d have them,” he says. “ _You’re_ a vampire, why would _you_ get bitten?”

I give him a bored gaze. “My sex life is none of your concern, Snow.”

**…**

**Simon**

Yeah, I know.

Thanks for the reminder.

**…**

**Baz**

“Sorry,” he mutters, looking down at his cup.

“I don’t want to upset you, Simon,” I say, paying attention to call him by his name and not Snow, because I _truly_ don’t want to upset him. “But it’s not my fault if you decide to bring up things you know you will be upset about. I’m with Lamb. I have sex with him. It’s a fact. I’m not going to hide it or pretend it’s not to make you feel better, but you can ignore it if you wish. I won’t talk about it if I’m not prompted to do so.” 

He cringes when I say that I have sex with Lamb, but he doesn’t comment. Good. 

“Alright. Let’s not talk about it,” he says, taking a sip of his tea. It must still be too hot because he makes a face. He puts the cup down and looks back at me, proposing his chin up on his hand. “Tell me about yourself. What have you been up to? I suppose you’re at Oxford, now?”

Aleister Crowley. My family, Dev, and Niall had been careful _not_ to mention Oxford to me, considering that I cancelled my application there, and especially the circumstances of that cancellation. 

I swallow some tea, the burn in my throat giving me some courage. I would rather not talk about _that time_ to Snow, but if we’re going to be close again, it’s important. I can’t pretend I didn’t hit rock bottom after our break up, especially considering he must _know._ He’s seen my scars, all this time ago, on his birthday. 

He take a scone from the bag as I start speaking. 

“I’m not going to Oxford, actually.”

He breaks a piece of scone, that he puts in his mouth. He gives me a puzzled look.

“Why? You were so excited about it.”

I was.

“There was a time when I was _not_ excited about it anymore. Not excited about anything, really. I was in a very dark place, mentally, and one day, it got particularly bad. It was like all of my negative thoughts had decided to overwhelm me at the same time, I felt completely stifled. The sole thought of going to Oxford made me sick, and I had an impulse to… cancel it. And of course, once I had done that, I wasn’t going to send an email asking them to take me back. I’d given up my chance to go, I wasn’t getting it back. It was only the first of a list of impulse decisions I made that day,” I say with a bitter chuckle.

The last one being cutting my veins open, I don’t say.

Snow can be quite thick sometimes, but I think he can figure this out for himself.

He puts the scone down without eating more of it and pushes it away. 

“Oh.”

Typical Snow.

“Are you going to try going next year?” he asks, surprising me.

I was expecting pitying looks and _‘I’m sorry’_ s, that would also have been typical Snow behaviour. 

“I’m not sure. I should already be working on it right now, but I’m not really feeling this strong desire to go to Oxford as quickly as possible, or at all. My life, and the way I see it, has changed a lot since I first applied. I… I know more about what being a vampire entails, now. I know for sure that I am… immortal.” The word echoes between us, heavy by its meaning. I clear my throat. “So I don’t need to rush. I can take my time. Live a little before I decide to study. Oxford isn’t my top priority at the moment, is what I’m saying.”

All the things Lamb has told me about vampires, and incidentally, about myself, have put so many things in perspective for me when it comes to my life and future.

Snow nods. “What are you doing then?”

“Plotting your downfall,” I tell him with a smile.

He chuckles, then gives me a suspicious look. He looks ridiculous. “I knew it.”

**…**

**Simon**

A warmth feeling grows in my chest as Baz and I laugh together.

“More seriously,” I tell him, reaching for the scone again -it’s really good, I should ask Baz where he bought it. Probably some posh bakery I can’t afford. “I’d like to know what you’re up to.”

He brings his cup to his lips. I watch his Adam’s apple go up and down his long, pale throat as he drinks. 

“I’m writing a book,” he says, putting the cup down to be able to move his hands as he speaks. He always does when he talks about something he’s passionate about. It’s adorable. “It’s something very heartfelt to me. As you know, when I was growing up, I didn’t have any resources about vampires, except those horrible, graphic descriptions of how to kill them. It weighed on me, and made me hate this part of myself even more than I already did, because I didn’t know what it meant to be a vampire. All I knew was that we were seen as monsters. I want to change that. Or at least, to give an opportunity to possible other mages turned into vampires to discover _true_ information about who they are. So I’m writing a book where I list everything I have learnt and observed about vampires. I’m no scientist, so it’s not a scientific book, but it’s still made up of _actual_ facts. Things I have experienced myself as a vampire, or that vampires I know have experienced. I plan on sending it to Professor Bunce when I will be done, to ask her to share it to the public. If she refuses, I’ll find a way to do it myself, but I don’t think she will. She may dislike vampires as much as other mages, she is a person who seems to value knowledge and facts.”

He’s brilliant.

I’m so proud of him for finally being comfortable enough with his vampirism to write a whole book about it, a book that he intends on defending in front of Mrs Bunce, on top of that.

“You’re such a nerd,” I tease him.

He rolls his eyes. 

“Jokes aside, I think it’s a great idea, Baz!” I tell him, because I don’t want him to think I don’t care. “If mages are so hostile towards vampires, it’s because they’re different from them, because they don’t understand them. I’m sure that showing them what vampires truly are, that they’re not just the monsters they believe them to be, could enlighten them and maybe make them change their mind.”

Baz’s eyebrows shoot up. He must be surprised I could string together such a smart sentence. 

I should probably be offended, but I know he doesn’t mean to insult me. I just generally don’t say very smart things. 

“Well guessed, Snow. That’s also my intention. Some magical creatures can be as dangerous as vampires, if not more, and yet they are not villainized the way we are. Fairies, for instance. A fairy can manipulate your mind with just one look. They can make you do horrible things with just a smile. Yet they are respected, because they are considered higher magical beings. Pixies, as well. It’s not because they look all sweet and sparkly that they’re not deadly, and yet they’re not considered a threat. All vampires can do is bite, and enthrall, but the thrall doesn’t work on you if you haven’t been bitten. I’d say that we’re _less_ dangerous to mages than pixies and fairies, and yet we’re the one with the bad reputation. I know that part of it comes from the fact that we’re not glamorous creatures, we don’t have delicate wings or glittery dust or colorful complexions, but most of the stigma still comes from the fact that what we are and what we do is widely unknown.”

He’s saying _us_ when talking about vampires, I notice. That’s new too. It was always _they_ before, he always rejected that part of his identity.

It kills me to admit it, but maybe his vampire boyfriend is truly good for him. 


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!! TRIGGER WARNING !!!!  
> NON-CON
> 
> if you want to skip this part, stop reading after “I have a stupid smile on my face and a light heart as I drive back to the club.”

**Make sure you’ve checked the trigger warning**

**Baz**

“But what about you?” I ask, sitting back on my chair more comfortably. 

He shrugs. Typical Snow.

“I’m going to try to find a job. I could still live off the Mage’s money but it doesn’t really make me comfortable, and I’d like to actually have something to do all day. Liv is helping me with the whole process, and meanwhile, I take pictures for her shop and she gives me a few pounds when I do. I never wanted her to pay me for the pictures but she says that all work deserves payment and she becomes super annoying when I refuse so I just take the money to make her shut up.”

I’m strangely relaxed hearing Olivia’s name. It may be because Niall told me Snow and her had broken up after what happened between us at his wedding. Or maybe it’s because I saw her running down the stairs, chased away by Snow because I was coming.

“You take pictures? _Good_ pictures?” I can’t help but say.

I don’t mean to be mean, I’m just genuinely surprised. Simon Snow couldn’t use a smartphone two years ago. 

He kicks me under the table, getting an offended breath out of me. 

“Don’t be an arse,” he says, flushing. He reaches inside his pocket and takes his phone out, looking for something on it. When he hands it to me, I see that he has opened a website that must be that of Olivia’s shop. “The six most recent ones were taken by me. In case you want to be a dick about that too, I didn’t _just_ take the pictures, I also chose the setting and pose and lightning and all that stuff. I also did some editing once Liv explained photoshop to me and let me train on pictures she had previously edited so that I’d have a base to know where I should go with the editing. She said she trusted me with all of it because apparently she likes the result when she lets me do my thing.”

Interesting.

I take his phone -it’s still the one I gave him- carefully, looking at the pictures. 

They’re really good.

I have very little knowledge of photography, so my opinion may not be the most objective, but the pictures are aesthetically pleasing, with bolder poses than those I remember from when I stalked Olivia’s Instagram, and there’s a mood to all of them that fits the dress it’s mean to present quite well. 

I guess Simon Snow really does wonders with his hands when he isn’t using them for magic ; a thought I’ve had times and times again in the past. 

“I’m quite surprised,” I tell him honestly, giving him a small smile, and his phone. “That’s great work, Snow.”

His whole face turns red. Adorable moron.

“Thank you,” he says.

I smile a little wider. “Is it something you enjoy doing? Taking those pictures?”

“I mean, yeah. It’s fun. I have to think about it a little, you know, to make sure it’ll look good, but it’s not the kind of thinking that makes my head hurt. It’s mostly just fun,” he says as he puts the phone back in his pocket.

“Have you thought about making it your job? You could go to uni to study photography, and if you’re still helping Olivia by the time you’re dome, you could fix actual prices and try to find other people to work with. I’m sure she could help with that.”

In my humble opinion, that doesn’t look like that bad of an idea. As far as I know, Snow has no idea what he wants to do for a living. That could be an option.

Apparently not, apparently. He shakes his head.

“Liv said that too, but I’m afraid it’s going to become boring and feel like a chore if I go to school for it. I want it to stay fun. I’ll find something else to do for a living. I’ve applied to a few coffee shops, and to some independent bookstore owned by an old woman that reminds me of Ebb and her niece. The niece seemed to like me so maybe I got my chances to be hired there. Also the niece seems to be friends with Liv somehow so that helps. Liv is friends with so many people, I don’t know how she does it,” he comments. 

_The niece seemed to like me_ , the fool says casually. And then he doesn’t realize that he’s charming. An idiot, he’s an idiot.

“You? In a bookstore? I’d love to see that.”

He groans and kicks my leg again.

“I told you to stop being a prick.”

**…**

**Simon**

I’m so caught up in chatting with Baz that I only notice it’s lunchtime because Ollie comes to the kitchen and starts meowing and walking in circles around my chair.

“So you have a cat,” Baz says, sounding skeptical as I pick Ollie up. 

Penny says I shouldn’t hold him in my arms like that so often because he’s not a baby. Penny is wrong.

I give Baz a threatening look, rocking Ollie, who’s busy picking at a thread on my sleeve with his little paws. “Don’t say anything mean about my son.”

Baz lets out a surprised snort.

“That’s your son?” he says, amusement in his eyes and voice.

“Yes,” I say, hugging Ollie possessively. 

He wriggles, so I let him go, shooting him a truly betrayed gaze. Doing that to _me._ And in front of _Baz_? How ungrateful.

Baz seems to be having sun, though, he’s smiling like crazy, so I guess it’s worth it. 

“His name is Ollie. Well, Oliver, but I call him Ollie,” I explain. I don’t think Baz cares about my cat but he isn't telling me to shut up and I like talking about my little guy, so I continue. “Isn’t he cute? I found him on Christmas, you must remember.”

He pretended he didn’t know about Ollie, but I know he does. I _vividly_ remember the notification I got from him on Instagram on Christmas. 

I pick up the bag with Ollie’s food, glancing at Baz. His cheeks are a little bit pink. It makes me smile.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, trying to keep his perfect composure.

“Sure thing, mate,” I answer with a chuckle, serving Ollie his food.

Once my cat has started feeding, I turn back to Baz. 

I rest my hands on the back of my chair, leaning against it. “What do you want for lunch? I was supposed to eat overpriced sandwiches in the park with Liv so I haven’t prepared anything, but I can make something quickly, or we can order.”

I hope he’s gonna ask me to make something. I’m kind of short on money -well, not really, the Mage had quite a fortune, but I’ve decided on a certain amount to spend each month, and I only have £6 left, that’s not enough for takeaway. 

“I wouldn’t say no to a pizza, I haven’t had one in forever. My treat,” he adds before I can begin to say anything.

“You’re not paying for me,” I tell him. “You already brought the scones, I should pay for lunch.”

I guess I can use more money that I’m supposed to if it’s to please Baz. I’ll just spend less next month.

“I insist,” Baz says, because _of course_ he insists. “You didn’t know I’d come. I’m making you a surprise, so it’s normal that I should pay,” he says, already taking his phone out to order.

**…**

**Baz**

Hours feels like seconds, here with Snow, talking like we’re old friends, eating pizza on the floor of his living room and petting his cat. 

Much too soon, I glance at my watch and see that it’s 6:30 pm. 

It’s nearly time for me to leave, unless I...

“I was wondering if you’d like to stay for dinner?” Snow says, brutally interrupting my thoughts. “I thought we could make it together.”

There’s a smile on his lips. He must be thinking about the few times when we cooked together, when we were still an item. He must be thinking about _the first time_ we cooked together. When I first drank his blood.

I smile at the memory too, but I can’t give Snow an answer just like that. 

“I… I have to make sure of something first. I have a call to make, if that’s alright?”

He waves his hand dismissively, even if he seems a bit puzzled. “Yeah, go on.”

**…**

**Simon**

Baz goes lock himself in the bathroom.

I thought he’d go to the kitchen.

I know I probably shouldn’t, but after a few seconds, I follow him, listening to what he’s saying through the door. I’m curious, okay?

**…**

**Baz**

“Hello, Lamb?”

“Baz? Is everything alright?” Lamb asks the moment he picks up. 

I smile at his thoughtfulness. 

“Yes, more than alright, don’t worry.”

“So you’re having fun?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad,” he says, sounding sincere. “What did you call for then?”

“Well, I know you said I had to be back for 7, but I was wondering if I could stay a little longer. Simon suggested we make dinner and eat it together, and I’d enjoy doing that very much, Sir. I’m really having a good time.”

He hums. He doesn’t sound upset, thankfully. I’m acting all relaxed, but I’m a bit afraid Lamb might actually not be okay with me being friends with Simon, even if he has done absolutely nothing to support that theory. 

“Alright, you can stay longer. But I want you back at the club at 9. I’ll have Jonas tell me when you come back.”

“Why?” I ask, frowning. Usually, I have to go to Lamb’s flat directly when I come home, for him to know that I’m back and to put my collar back on. “Won’t you be here yourself?”

“I will be at the club but not at our flat. Halloween is a busy day on the first floor, the humans are particularly interested in being bitten on that night. I have to be there all night long to make sure no one drinks more than they should or try to bite someone who’s given too much already or simply hasn’t said they wanted it. I know you prefer the ground floor, which is why I’m not asking you to come here. There will probably be about twice the amount of people, it’ll only make you uncomfortable. However, you don’t have to go back to the flat. You can go party if you wish, just remember the rules.”

I nod even if he can’t see me.

“Oh, okay. I’ll probably do that, then. Go to the club, I mean. It’s been quite a while since I went there alone, I miss getting free drinks from handsome men,” I tease him.

We both know that’s not true. I don’t let anyone buy me drinks, that’s against the rules, unless Lamb explicitly says I can. It’s fun pretending, though. 

Lamb groans and it sends a shiver down my spine. “Be a flirt,” he tells me, a warning in his voice. “And I swear you’ll remember it, sweetheart.”

I have half a mind to shamelessly flirt with someone tonight, right in front of the bartenders so that they’ll report it to him, to see what punishment I would get…

Lamb hasn’t had any reason to punish me yet, I’m quite obedient, and I can’t say I’m not curious to see what he has in stock for _real_ punishments, not the fun punishments we both enjoy. 

I chase that thought.

I can’t get steamy thoughts, I’m in Snow’s flat. A hard-on would really be inappropriate right now. 

I giggle on the phone, to annoy Lamb a little more. I can almost hear him roll his eyes.

“See you tomorrow, then,” I tell him. 

When Lamb stays at the club all night, he doesn’t want me to wait for him. He says I need _sleep_.

“See you tomorrow, brat. Behave.”

“Yes, Sir,” I tell him, mischief in my voice as I hang up.

**…**

Snow is behind the door.

I open the door _and Snow is fucking behind it._

I glare at him. “Ever heard of privacy?” I snap. 

He has the decency to look embarrassed, but I’m not sure the flush on his cheeks is only caused by shame. 

“Is he your dad or your boyfriend? Why do you have to ask him to stay later, aren’t you a bloody adult?”

My face turns cold. 

Only two people know what my relationship with Lamb really entails, Dev and Niall, and even if they were a bit weirded out at first, they never made a judgment. The one thing they did was make sure Lamb wasn’t abusing me, which, I guess, I can understand. My bruises can be frightening if you don’t know how vocal I was about wanting them, and the blows that came with them. I’m pretty sure Dev even used a truth spell on Lamb, he can be _quite_ protective, and he was so angry when he saw my bruises, even after I explained that it was absolutely consensual. It was a horrible conversation. Telling my cousin that I like being hurt in bed is _not_ at the top of the list of things I want to be talking about. 

But once they knew that this relationship was good for me, they respected it completely and didn’t comment on it. 

As always, their mindset was, _‘As long as you’re happy’._

Of course, it can’t be the same with Snow…

“I don’t think I asked for your opinion on my relationship, Snow,” I tell him, my voice biting.

“No but Baz, it’s so fucking weird, why would you ask _him…”_

“Because I want to, Aleister Crowley! Why does it matter to you if I want my boyfriend to tell me when to come home? He’s watching out for me. He cares enough to always make sure I’m home by the time he asks me to be. I like it. Now if you don’t mind getting off your high horse, maybe we could go make dinner?”

I don’t want to fight with Snow, I really don’t, but I don’t want to hear him disrespecting my relationship with Lamb. It has been so beneficial to me, all aspects of it, I can’t bear hearing him talk about it like it’s a bad thing.

“Oh, yes, because you don’t have much time, since your boyfriend wants you home in two hours and you’re just going to obey like you’re his fucking dog or something!” Snow spits out. 

I have to try _very hard_ not to reply with a biting comment about my collar.

_I don’t want to fight Snow._

Instead, I take a deep breath and say, calmly. “Listen. You can either shut up about my boyfriend, and the evening carries on like it began, or you can keep giving your opinion, but you’ll give it to your cat, not me.”

That seems to shut him up. Thank Merlin. 

He takes a few seconds, probably to calm himself, and then he says. “Okay, fine. I was thinking we could maybe make something light, I’m not really hungry after the pizzas we had for lunch.”

I still feel a little tense, but I nod. “That sounds like a good idea. I have another quick call to make before that though. Don’t listen this time,” I warn him as I walk back inside the bathroom. 

**…**

“Lamb?” I say the moment he picks up. 

My voice isn’t completely steady. 

“Love, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, rubbing my hand on my face. “It’s just… Simon spied on our call, and he… he said things about us…”

_Is he your dad or your boyfriend?_

“It upset you,” he says, understanding.

_You’re just going to obey like you’re his fucking dog or something!_

“Yes.”

 _It’s so fucking_ weird.

“He was so aggressive, Lamb... He… It’s not wrong what we do, right?” 

My breathing is getting shaky too.

“Hey, love, listen to me,” Lamb says with a soothing voice. “Do you like the relationship we have?”

“Yes, of course,” I say immediately.

What a stupid question. Does he think I’d comply this well if I didn’t?

“Is it good for you? Do you feel like this relationship brings you something positive?”

“ _Yes.”_

“Then it’s not wrong, baby. It doesn’t matter what others think. It doesn’t matter what _Simon_ thinks. He does not even _know_ what our relationship is like. Don’t let his opinion make you feel bad. Our relationship is fulfilling to you. It’s all that matters, Baz. Alright?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

I’m already feeling better just hearing Lamb’s words. 

My neck feels much too naked right now, though. I wish my collar was here for me to feel it. But it’s not, so squeezing my throat will do for now. 

“Do you need me to stay on the phone a little longer?” Lamb asks softly.

Doesn’t he have better things to do?

“I… please. Just for a moment.”

“Okay. I’m here baby, you’re fine. And remember, if Simon upsets you, you don’t have to stay at his place. Do what’s best for you.”

“Yes, I know.”

I listen to his breathing for a few seconds, and then. “It’s okay, I’m good now. Thank you.”

“You have no reason to thank me. If anything else happens and you need me, call me or come back home alright? And if you’re not feeling like coming back on your own, call me too. I’ll pick you up.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I assure him, clearing my throat to get rid of the lump that had formed in it. “Bye, Lamb.”

“Goodbye love.”

**…**

Surprisingly enough, Snow actually behaves for the rest of the evening. He acts like that whole mess after my call never happened, which I guess is better, we can actually enjoy each other’s presence that way. After a few tense minutes, everything is good, and I have a pleasant time with him. 

It’s a bit regretfully that I leave him, promising to text him soon to arrange another meeting, one he will be aware of this time. 

I have a stupid smile on my face and a light heart as I drive back to the club.

**…**

Music is pulsing in my ears, a loud, frenetic beat, and the neon lights are blinding. The air smells strongly of sweat, which is kind of gross, but you get used to it, and of heat. That same heat that I can feel in my body.

As clearly as I can feel the strong, large hand on my hip.

I startle, and when I turn and see an unfamiliar face instead of Lamb’s, my stomach drops. 

“Hey baby,” he says, his deep voice intimidating me. 

I feel him grind on me. He’s hard against my arse.

My throat is dry.

“Wanna go somewhere with me, pretty boy?”

Too dry to speak. 

I’ve had men grope me unexpectedly, that’s sadly quite usual here, but _this_ is more than that.

“Look at you,” he says, glancing at my partly unbuttoned shirt. 

He’s _holding_ me, not just touching me. His hand _hurts_ . He can _actually_ restrain me. 

“Of course you want to.”

I can hear the smirk in his voice. 

His skin is pale, too pale, a sickly kind of pale. And…

And he’s leading me away.

My heart is pounding in my chest. 

“I’ve seen you here a few times,” he says. “Always with Lamb… What do you think he will think of me playing with his little toy?”

I look around, panicked, trying to meet the gaze of one of the bartenders, but they’re so far, and he’s taking me further and further each second. I want to fight back but I can’t move. I feel like a rag doll. 

Tears are burning my eyes. 

He takes me behind the curtains, where not even the employees go, and opens the first door on the left.

I can’t breathe.

I need to escape, I need to escape, _I need to escape._

But I can’t.

My body isn’t responding. My brain can’t control it.

He throws me inside the room, so hard that I fall on the floor. 

I don’t react fast enough to prevent my head from hitting the carpeting. 

I do react fast enough to scramble to get up on my knees, looking at the man with pleading eyes, my hands clasped together.

I can feel hot tears falling down my cheeks. 

“Please, please, don’t hurt me, please, please, please.”

I barely recognize my voice. I’m not sure it’s me who’s speaking.

He grabs me by the back of the collar of my shirt and pushes me against the wall. My cheek scratches against it. 

“Shut up,” he groans in my ear, his entire body pressing me up against the wall. 

His breath stinks of alcohol and blood. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

**Lamb**

“ _Boss?_ ” I hear from my earpiece.

Sabrina. She’s in charge of monitoring the security cameras for the night. This can’t be any good. 

“Yes?” I answer, still keeping my eyes on a packed room.

“ _We have a situation in the private rooms of the ground floor. I saw one man push another one in the blue room._ ”

Fuck.

I’m already starting to walk out of the room when Sabrina’s next words, said with discomfort in her voice, make my stomach drop. “ _I think the one who got pushed was Basil, boss.”_

“Keep watching and tell me if they get out,” I tell her, ending the communication. 

Anyone being taken to one of the private rooms would be a problem, they’re rarely open to the public and only to people I trust. 

_Baz_ being taken to one of them…

“Come with me,” I snap at Thomas as I walk past him.

“I have the room to watch, boss…” he starts saying.

I glare at him over my shoulder. I don’t have time for this bullshit right now. Someone’s in danger in my club.

 _Baz_ may be in danger. 

“If I tell you to come with me, you come with me.”

I hear Thomas’s footsteps behind mind. He has to run to be able to follow me closely enough, and even then he’s struggling to keep up. 

“ _Boss,_ ” I hear in the earpiece again. It’s another voice. Jonas, the security guard at the door. “ _A woman from inside the club told me she saw someone leading someone else away to the private rooms, and that one of them seemed to be out of it.”_

Jesus fucking Christ.

“I know, I’m already on my way.”

 _What the fuck_ do I pay these people for if they only notice things after they’ve happened? Hell, Jonas didn’t even see it himself, it was a bloody customer!

If _Baz_ really is the one who’s been taken there, they’ll hear about me. All of them who were on the ground floor tonight… 

I don’t usually reprimand or yell at my employees, but they _know_ they have to pay attention to Baz, whenever he goes to the club I tell them to keep an eye on him, for fuck’s sake.

“Boss, what’s going on exactly?” Thomas asks as we run down the stairs. 

_I don’t know,_ that’s the fucking problem. 

“Hush.”

I’m sure my heart is beating faster than even a human’s heart as we reach the corridor where the private rooms are.

The blue room. Sabrina said it was the blue room. 

I barge in and the sight I’m confronted with makes me sick. It seems to make Thomas sick too because I hear him retch -he’s quite sensitive for someone who watches other humans offer their necks to vampires on a daily basis. 

“Stay here, don’t look,” I tell him, an anger that isn’t directed at him ringing in my voice. 

The man with his back to us doesn’t even react to hearing my voice. Maybe because he hasn’t hear. Maybe because he doesn’t care.

 _He_ doesn’t react either. He doesn’t seem to react to anything. His eyes are empty, silent tears falling from them. He looks like he’s not even there -maybe it’s better for him if his mind isn’t there. 

It makes me shiver in horror, and after that, everything happens in a blur of instinctive reactions and barely controlled panic. 

I cross the room as fast as I can, pulling the man off of Baz in a way that I hope won’t hurt him more than he already is.

As the man’s head knocks hard against the floor, I recognize him. I don’t remember his name, but I know his reputation. Before I opened the first floor of my club, he used to prey on the mortals who knew some of the spots where vampires hid, drinking their blood and enthralling them to fuck them. 

The fact that _anyone_ put their hands on Baz enrages me, but the fact that someone _like that_ did…

I kick his chin, step on his nose, smiling when I hear bone crush. 

He laughs, a choked, dark laugh that echoes in the room. “‘s got a nice arse, your little plaything. So tight.”

I see red. 

I press on his mouth with the sole of my shoes. Blood splashes and he chokes on some of his fallen teeth. 

I move enough to step on his crotch _hard_ making him howl in pain, a dreary sense of satisfaction overwhelming me when I hear the sound. 

I take the card that opens the door to my flat and throw it on the floor, in Thomas’s general direction.

I start barking orders at him as I keep kicking and kicking and kicking the man at my feet, too paralized by pain to fight back or _talk_ anymore _._

“Thomas, take Baz to my flat. _Be careful_ . Don’t touch him more than you absolutely need to, and fix his clothes. _Now._ ”

Baz still isn’t making any sound and it’s killing me. 

I wait until the door of the room is closed, give the man one last kick (right on his temple) and look at his pathetic figure.

He’s covered in blood and bruises, tears have sprung to his eyes, and he’s missing teeth.

It’s so much.

It’s not enough. 

I reach inside my pocket for the one item I always keep with me at the club, to remind all of the vampires of _who_ is in charge here, and I see fear flash in his eyes as I strike a match. 

I give him a wide, cold smile.

“You chose the wrong boy to mess with.”

**…**

The smell of smoke sticks to my clothes as I walk back inside the building.

A burning trash can is the perfect excuse to close the club…

Through my earpiece, I communicate the same message to all of my employees.

“We’re closing. Stop whatever you’re doing and make the customers leave shortly. No questions. I will contact you all tomorrow.”

I take the earpiece out before I can hear the questions that will come despite the fact that I said not to ask any. 

Then, as the elevator carries me up to the last floor, I take deep breaths to try and control the anger and fear buzzing under my skin. If I’m to help Baz, I have to be calm. To be strong for him, even if I want to scream and punch things.

He got hurt.

He got hurt in _my club._

I promised to protect him, it’s part of the deal. He was supposed to be safe at the club, me or my employees always watching him. 

I shake my head.

Not me and my employees. It should have been just me. _I_ should have taken care of him. _I_ should have made sure he was alright at all times. 

I shouldn’t have left him go to the club alone. 

I should…

I should have done so many things.

But I didn’t. 

And he got hurt. 

So incredibly hurt.

There’s a lump in my throat that I do my best to swallow as I walk in my flat. Baz is sitting on the couch, unmoving and silent. Thankfully, Thomas is at a respectable distance, and he has the clarity of mind not to look at Baz when he’s in this state. 

He’ll probably hate that _I_ saw him like that, but I can’t let him down, not again.

“Thank you Thomas,” I say as I clasp his shoulder. “You can leave.”

He nods, because glancing at Baz. “Will he be okay?” he asks, some worry in his voice.

The question _really_ doesn’t make me feel any better, but I keep my composure, answering with as much confidence as I can muster “Yes. Go, now.”

He does.

I wait a few seconds after he closed the door to walk up to Baz. I kneel in front of him. I don’t want to intimidate him by standing while he’s sitting, and I want him to be looking directly at me. 

His eyes look empty, like those of a porcelain doll. It’s terrifying.

“Baz?” I say, resisting the urge to take his hands in mine. “Baz, can you hear me?”

He frowns. 

Thank God, a reaction.

**…**

**Baz**

The voice…

The voice sounds like Lamb’s.

But it smells of smoke. It smells like Simon.

Is it Lamb or Simon?

I try to focus to make myself blink, so that my eyes won’t be so foggy. I need to see if it’s Lamb or Simon.

Do I want it to be Lamb or Simon?

**…**

**Lamb**

“Baz, please say something. Are you with me, baby?”

He blinks.

**…**

**Baz**

Do I want it to be both?

**…**

**Lamb**

“Please love, I need to know if you can hear me,” I say, and my voice has a plaintive ring to it that it shouldn’t have.

I have to stay calm. I have to stay in control. 

**…**

**Baz**

I think I want it to be both. I know it’s not possible, but I wish the both of them were here with me.

**…**

**Lamb**

He blinks a bit more, and his eyes seem to come back to life. There’s light in them again, and they soon enough fall on me.

“Lamb,” he says, and hearing how broken his voice sounds ties a knot my throat.

_I failed him._

**…**

**Baz**

It’s Lamb.

Just Lamb.

Not Simon.

I wish Simon was here.

But I don’t want Lamb not to be here.

But I want Simon.

**…**

**Lamb**

I keep my guilt to myself, Baz doesn’t need to be burdened with it. It’s all _my_ burden. My guilt, my fear, my anger. 

_His_ fear is too, I think as I look into is scared eyes. 

“You’re safe, Baz,” I tell him, and I disgust myself just saying the words.

How can I _dare_ tell him that when he obviously was _not_ safe, because I wasn’t attentive enough. 

I chase that thought.

I can’t let myself become overwhelmed. I’ll have all the time in the world to blame myself when Baz will be in a better state. Or at least in a state that isn’t as bad as his current one. 

“It’s going to be alright sweetheart. Do you want anything? To change your clothes? To take a shower?”

There’s no point in keeping him here on the sofa. He doesn’t look well enough to talk right now, but maybe some time to himself could help him. 

I’m swimming in uncharted waters right now, and it doesn’t help relieve my anxiety. I have _no idea_ how to handle a situation like this one. In my long life, this is -thankfully- something I never had to face. Until now. 

**…**

**Baz**

Shower.

That seems like a good idea.

I can wash him off me.

I can get rid of those clothes that tempted him, get under hot water and scrub.

_Look at you. Of course you want to._

“Yeah, I… I’d like that,” I say, my voice weak. 

Speaking hurts. The sole idea of walking to the bathroom and undressing hurts. I just want to let myself fall back on the couch and sleep. 

To wake up from this nightmare.

“Alright then,” Lamb says softly. “Do you want me to run you a bath?”

I don’t have to stand up if I’m in the bathtub. 

“Yes, please.”

“And do you need help going to the bathroom?”

He must be able to tell my legs are unsteady. He’s kneeling right in fr…

He’s _kneeling_.

Lamb is kneeling in front of me. 

That feels illicit. Decadent.

That feels _wrong_.

I should be on my knees, begging him for forgiveness for having gotten on them for and begged someone else.

**…**

**Lamb**

He seems lost in his thoughts again. He hasn’t answered me, and horror flashes in his eyes as his mouth opens slightly.

Fuck, I hate this. 

“Baz? Hey, Baz, love, focus on me,” I say, to stop whatever thoughts he’s having, because they can’t be any good.

“You have to punish me,” he says, his head low.

He lost me there.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I disobeyed. I… I went on my knees. I’m not allowed to. You have to punish me.”

My jaw drops. I can’t help it. I tried not to show my reactions, it’s important that Baz has someone stable and in control, but _this_ … this is a lot.

I knew that Baz had a tendency to blame himself for pretty much _everything,_ but I wouldn’t in a million years imagine he’d want me to punish him for… for…

My hands are aching to touch him, but I would hate to freak him out, so instead of blindly reaching for him, I ask “Can I touch you? Your face,” I specify.

He nods. 

“Verbal answer.”

“Yes,” he whispers, his head still low. He sounds guilty. He must think I want to scold him or something equally as stupid. 

I hate this. 

I cup his face slowly, not to scare him, and tenderly, to show him that I’m _not_ in any _fucking_ way mad at him.

I tilt it until he’s looking at me, and hold his gaze. He wants to look away, I can tell, but he doesn’t. 

“You did _not_ disobey, Baz,” I say firmly. “You… Jesus, you were forced Baz.” My voice falters on the word ‘forced’, and his eyes close, but I keep going. “You did nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing wrong, love. I don’t want you to think you did.”

“But I…” he starts. I want to stop him, because I’m sure his next words aren’t going to be pleasant, but I think it’s better if he gets it out, whatever it is. I can’t comfort him and talk him out of his negative thoughts if I don’t know them. “It’s the _second time_ something like this happens. I _must_ have done something wrong.” 

**…**

**Baz**

_Look at you. Of course you want to._

**…**

**Lamb**

He looks down again, tugging on his shirt. I notice that the seam line on the side is ripped. It makes my hand tighten against his face, a reaction I immediately regret. 

“Look at how I’m dressed,” Baz says, his voice as devoid of emotions as his eyes were when I found him. “I was wearing something like that on that other night too.” He trails his finger on the skin exposed by the part of his shirt that is unbuttoned. “I guess I should cover up more if I don’t want people to think I want to fuck.”

“Wow, wow, wow, no. _Basil_ , no. You… This isn’t right. What happened is in no way, shape or form _your_ fault.”

**…**

**Baz**

He sounds like Niall. Like Snow. Like Dev. 

Like everyone who knows for Roman.

**…**

**Lamb**

I stroke his cheeks with my thumbs. The lump in my throat is getting bigger and bigger, and I feel tears pricking my eyes. 

I try to keep my cool, I really do, but this situation is so fucking terrible. I wish I could get inside Baz’s head to make all those horrible thoughts of his disappear. To bring some peace to his mind.

“It’s not your fault, love.,” I say again, because I don’t know what else to say. And then, because I _really_ don’t know what to say, and because I can’t help wanting to, “Can I kiss you?”

“Don’t ask,” he tells me. “Not for this. Not… not for kissing me or holding me. I don’t… Don’t treat me like I’m a fragile thing, alright? I’m not.”

I know he’s not. He’s so incredibly strong. 

“Okay,” I answer. 

I still feel like I _should_ ask, after what just happened to him, but I have to trust him to know what he wants and needs. 

“It makes me feel worse if you ask than if you don’t,” he explains.

So I lean in, pressing a kiss to his lips. It’s quick, and soft, and it takes a weight off my shoulders. 

I kiss him again, his cheek this time. “What about that bath, now?” I ask, my lips close to his ear. “Still up for it?”

He nods. “Yes.”

I move back to look at him.

“You didn’t tell me if you wanted help to go to the bathroom.”

He hesitates for a few seconds, so I add. “This isn’t me treating you like you’re helpless or fragile, Baz, you know that. It isn’t the first time I suggest carrying you to the bathroom…” I tease him, hoping to make the atmosphere less heavy.

It works. I see the shadow of a smile on his lips, and this small, barely noticeable reaction might make me pass out. It’s faint, but he’s _smiling._

“Carry me, then. I like when you serve me,” he teases back.

“I only live to serve you, Your Highness.”

He rolls his eyes, bringing a smile on my face.

I like occasionally reminding him of the fake name he’d chosen at first. Charles. One of my ways of annoying him about it is to call him _Your Highness_. He hates it, because there’s a part of him that can’t help liking the title.

“Go on, then. Serve me.”

I do.

**…**

**Baz**

Lamb carries me to the bathroom and it feels good. 

His arms don’t feel constricting, despite the fact that they’re strong and hold me tightly. They feel safe. 

Lamb feels safe. He’s always done.

He came for me today. 

He saved me.

“Thank you,” I whisper without even realizing it.

“What are you thanking me for?” he asks, sounding confused, as he pushes the door of the bathroom open with his foot.

“You came,” is all I answer, burying my face against his shoulder more, breathing in the strong scent of his cologne.

**…**

**Lamb.**

_You came._

Too late.

Much too late.

**…**

**Baz**

Once we’re in the bathroom, he gently puts me down on the counter, and I close my eyes as he moves around the bathroom, turning on the water, checking the temperature, rummaging through the cabinets to find one of his dear essential oils to pour in the bath -chamomile, by the smell of it- before coming back in front me.

I keep my eyes close.

“Do you want me to undress you and carry you to your bath?”

I shake my head. 

“I’ll manage from there. But… Stay here a moment, please.”

“Okay,” he says, and I hear him walk away.

When I open my eyes, I see that he’s standing in front of the bathtub, pretending to be checking the level of the water. 

We both know he’s only turning his back on me to let me undress without his eyes on me, but I appreciate that he’s pretending it’s not.

Getting off the counter takes much more effort than it should. My entire body aches.

I make quick work -well, as quick as I can right now- of my clothes, glad to be free of them, and I cross the distance to the bathtub.

“You’re in the way,” I tell Lamb as I get there.

He steps aside, and I move my sore limbs as best as I can to get inside the bathtub without falling on my face or my arse. 

**…**

**Lamb**

There’s a line of dried blood running along the top of one of his pale thighs.

Anger grows inside of me again. 

I burnt that motherfucker much too soon.

**…**

**Baz**

The hot water feels wonderful.

I let myself sink in it, enough for the tip of my hair to become wet, and I close my eyes again.

“Do you want me to stay?” Lamb asks.

His voice sounds a little weird, but I don’t let it bother me. I can understand if he’s starting to let his control crumble. 

“I’d like some time alone, if you don’t mind.”

He deserves some time alone too. 

“But before that,” I add, thinking of the inexplicable smell of smoke that filled my nostrils earlier. 

I open my eyes, because this is serious. 

I’m really unsure about asking him that, to be honest, but I feel like I need it, and I think Lamb is understanding enough to grant me this. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, what?”

“I would like… _No._ I _want_ Simon to be there. I… I need him. He’s… he has helped me… _before_.”

It was a complete mess, at first, like everything with Snow, but eventually, he knew how to be there for me in the right way, after what happened with Roman. He could guide Lamb, and…

And I just have a feeling that his presence would be a comfort. 

Lamb doesn’t seem too bothered by the request, which surprises me more than it probably should ; he isn’t a particularly jealous person, and I know he cares about my well-being quite a lot. 

If I need Simon…

“I’m going to contact him,” he promises. 

**…**

**Lamb**

Niall is quick to send me Simon’s number. He doesn’t ask questions, but I keep in mind to call him after I call Simon. He must be puzzled about my request. 

I take a few minutes to collect myself before I call, trying to empty my head of those heartbreaking images that have been stuck in it since I saw Baz in the blue room. 

Then, I brace myself for a conversation with Simon Snow. If it’s anything like our chat at Niall and Dev’s wedding, it won’t be pleasant, but it’s for Baz. 

It’s important. 

_“Hello?”_

“Hello, Simon. It’s Lamb,” I answer. I don’t add ‘Baz’s boyfriend’. He knows, and I won’t get anything out of him if I remember him I’m with Baz.

I hear a groan.

“How _the fuck_ did you get this number?”

“I think you should ask why, not how.”

He exhales heavily.

“Why, then?”

“Because something happened to Baz. Something… difficult. He wants you here. He says he needs you.”

There’s a catch in his breathing, and I can hear him stand up, even through the phone. 

“How can I come?”

I’m a little surprised at how cooperative he is. I suppose he _does_ care for Baz. It was honestly a little hard to believe for me, I won’t lie.

“I’ll send you the address. There’s a tube station nearby, or you could get a cab. Whatever you think will get you here quickly. It’s really important.”

I hear more movement.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or not?” he asks, irritation in his voice.

“When you get there. So you better be quick if you want to know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure I’ll be able to post tomorrow, sorry, I’m having a rather busy day (for once) so I don’t know if I’ll have enough time to write a chapter


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was much easier (and therefore quicker) to write than I thought, wow

**Baz**

I look down at myself, at my body under the water.

I have bruises and scratches that I know weren’t there this morning. 

It makes me want to throw up.

I can’t believe I let this happen. I can’t believe I just… didn’t fight back.

At Trixie’s party, I at least had the excuse of the pixie dust and alcohol. Tonight, there was none of that involved. I was completely, perfectly sober. I was in full control of myself.

And yet I let it happen.

I panicked instead of fucking trying to defend myself.

If I hadn’t been so weak…

None of this would have happened.

He wouldn’t have touched me. 

A shiver runs down my spine as I think about it.

I don’t even remember most of it. At some point my mind simply… turned off. It was like I had left my body, like it was happening to someone else. I could close my eyes and not see it anymore. 

Not _feel_ it anymore.

But at first I did.

Feel it.

I felt his rough, cold hands, grabbing and pulling. I felt his nails digging in my skin, scratching me. I felt his breath on my neck, hot and uncomfortable. I felt…

I grab the sponge, the rough one that feels so good when Lamb massages my back with it _just right_ during those baths we take together, I pour shower gel on it, and I start scrubbing.

And scrubbing.

And scrubbing.

Scrubbing him off my body, scrubbing to be _clean._

Scrubbing until my skin turns pink and I have some thin, barely there scratches.

Scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing my skin like I used to brush and brush and brush my teeth.

Snow’s voice rings in the back of my head.

_You don’t need to do that. You’re not dirty, Baz._

That’s probably what he’d say if he were here right now, if he saw what I’m doing.

He was so upset when he first saw blood in the sink.

_You’re not dirty, Baz._

But he said that about what happened with Roman.

Maybe he wouldn’t think the same now.

Maybe this time I _am_ too dirty.

I pinch my nose and sink my head under the water, trying to focus on how different the sounds are, on my heartbeat that I can hear more clearly like this, on the water moving with my body, on the droplets running on my legs because they aren’t completely submerged, on everything but all those fucking _thoughts._

**…**

**Lamb**

I should probably return with Baz, make sure he’s okay, but I decide to be selfish and stay away from the bathroom for a moment. I open the large glass doors that lead to the patio, shivering when the freezing air of the night envelops me, and I step outside.

I need to clear my head. Maybe fresh air will help.

I sit on my usual chair, looking in the distance. I’ve always found the sight of a city at night relaxing. All those little lights everywhere, they make the dark less dark. It’s like people were trying to chase the night away by the sole power of electricity. 

I shift, crossing my legs, which makes my trousers tighten around the box of matches. It’s heavy against my thigh.

I never had to use it before, in all 10 years I’ve had the club. 

But tonight I did.

My hands clench into fists.

Baz… My sweet, lovely Baz… His eyes were so empty…

Mine fill with tears, and this time, I don’t prevent them from falling down my cheeks. It’s now or never. When Baz will get out of his bath, when Simon will be here, I won’t be able to be so fucking emotional anymore. It has to come out now.

So I stand up, to hold onto the edge of the balcony, just to have something to close my fists around tightly, to let all that anger and frustration bubbling inside me out as I let myself cry. 

**…**

**Baz**

I’ve just succeeded in emptying my mind when Lamb knocks on the bathroom door, making more of those stupid, hurtful thoughts appear.

The main one being : Why the fuck is he being so good to me?

“Can I come in?” he asks.

He owns the bloody place. Of course he can come in. 

“Yes,” I answer nonetheless, because I can’t possibly be mad at him for wanting to respect my privacy.

The door opens and he walks in, giving me a smile when I crane my neck to look at him. 

He stops once he’s close enough to the bathtub, and sits on the floor, next to where my head is. He leans in until he can cross his arms on the edge of the bathtub, and rests his chin on them. 

“Hi,” he says softly.

It makes my heart clench in my chest.

“Why are you taking care of me?”

Fuck I didn’t want to say it out loud.

**…**

**Lamb**

His question takes me aback. 

Why am I taking care of him?

“Why wouldn’t I be taking care of you?” I answer, because I want to know what put this thought into his head.

We’ve been… dating, or whatever it if that we’re doing for months. He should _know_ that I enjoy taking care of him. 

“Well… I don’t think… I’m not sure I’ll be able to…” He stops, struggling with his words. His eyebrows twitch in frustration. “Sex might be off limits for a moment,” he eventually says. “So… you don’t have to… do all of this.” He waves vaguely, probably to refer to this whole current situation. I frown. “I’m really grateful for how great you’ve been tonight, but you don’t have to keep doing that. I can go back to my own flat tomorrow so that I won’t be a bother if you want to bring other people here or something.”

I breath in and try not to let his words anger me.

I _know_ that what he’s saying isn’t a reflection of what he thinks, but a reflection of what he thinks of _himself_ and of his “role” in this relationship, but it still makes me so fucking mad to hear him assume I’m going to just… give up on him after he went through something so traumatic just because I won’t get to fuck him for a while. 

I don’t want him to think the only thing I want him for is sex. It was, at the beginning, I won’t lie, but things have changed _so much_ since the first time he stepped inside this flat. He’s grown on me, this strange boy who isn’t really a vampire, but isn’t really human either. This boy with his magic wand and his fire. 

“Baz,” I say low, but firm. “Now certainly isn’t the best time, and it is definitely not the best place for this, but we have to have a conversation. A _serious_ one.”

“Let me get out of the bathtub, then,” Baz says, sighing. 

I’m sure he thinks I want to break up with him. That seems like the conclusion Baz would come to. I hate it. I tried to make him work on that too, on his tendencies to imagine the worst and to doubt whether or not people truly care for him, but there’s still work to be done.

I move away to give him space as he drags himself out of the bathtub. I hand him a towel and watch him wrap it around his body, before drying himself with it as I turn away. I don’t look, but I can hear his movements. Only when the towel falls on the floor do I turn again, making sure to keep my gaze on his face. 

“We didn’t prepare clothes,” I tell him with a small smile.

“We didn’t.”

“I’m going to get you pyjamas, alright?”

He nods, as he gestures to me to hand him another towel, for his hair this time. 

I do, and then I head out.

**…**

Once Baz is dry and clad in his warmest pair of pyjamas, we sit on our bed, facing one another. 

I open my mouth to ask if I can hold his hands, then I remember what he said and simply reach for them. 

I rub circles on his skin with my thumb as I speak.

“I need you to understand something, Baz.”

“Understand what?”

**…**

**Baz**

That he likes the sex? That he doesn’t want to be burdened with me if I can’t have sex with him? That he’s _very sorry_ but that this has to end? That I can’t be mad at him because he always said he wasn’t truly my boyfriend and that it was purely sexual, not love?

I _know_ all of that. He doesn’t need to tell me.

**…**

**Lamb**

I’m not one for grand declarations, but I can try. He deserves it. 

I bring one of his hands to my lips and kiss the back of it. His eyes always go soft when I do that. This time is no exception.

“You matter to me Baz. A lot. I mean it. I know that a part of you probably believes I don’t, and I know that I’m to blame for that. I’ve told you since the beginning that I didn’t want you to fall in love with me, and that I wouldn’t fall in love with you. I stand by that. You should know, being in love only causes hurt, in the end. I don’t want that for us. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, Baz. Hell, I care about you _a lot_ . I… _I love you._ ” Surprise flashes in his eyes, so I correct myself. “Not like _that_ , but I do, I really do. You’re… I’ve had many people in my life who were important to me. You’re one of them. You’re the _only_ one of them at the moment. You’re probably the person I’ve cared for the most since I’ve moved back to London. You really left a mark on me, love, and I hate to think that you believe you’re just someone I enjoy having sex with. If it was just about the sex, I would ask you to leave once we’re done fucking. If it was just about the sex, I wouldn’t have given you keys and made room for your clothes on my closet. If it was just about the sex... I wouldn’t have met your parents, I wouldn’t have gone to your friends’ wedding, I wouldn’t be holding your hands right now, trying to be here for you. It’s _not_ just about the sex. I wish I had communicated this to you better, so that you would have known, but... it’s hard for me. I’m not used to this anymore, caring for someone the way I care for you. I haven’t let someone in in so long… No one, mortal or immortal, has moved me the way you do in decades. I’ve loved other people, in the last few years, of course, but you’re the one I hold dearest of them all. I know it may sound confusing to tell you all of that _and_ to tell you that I’m not in love with you, but that’s how I feel. I’ve been in love with a few people in the past, and it wasn’t anything like what I feel for you. Being in love… it’s something I remember sourly. It was extraordinary, but it didn’t feel _good_. It was a storm, an avalanche, a forest fire. It was an exhilarating rush of adrenaline before a bone crushing fall. What I feel for you, it’s calmer. More manageable. It’s peaceful. You bring me so much peace, when you’re here with me, even if we’re just sitting in the same room in silence.”

By the time I’m done speaking, I feel completely drained, having expressed more emotions with this one diatribe than I have in the past half-century, and Baz’s eyes are full of tears that he’s barely holding back while his hands are holding mine tightly.

**…**

**Baz**

Everything he just said... About how he felt when he was in love and how he feels now with me…

“That’s how I feel too,” I admit, my voice wet with tears. 

It lifts such an enormous weight off my chest to know this. To know that the way I feel isn’t strange, or wrong. That it makes sense, somehow, because he feels it too. 

_He feels it too._

One of those silly tears runs down my cheek. Lamb lets go of one of my hands to wipe it. 

“Maybe we should have talked about this some other time,” he says with a chuckle. “You’ve had enough strong emotions for today.”

“I think tonight was the perfect time,” I whisper.

I don’t think there would ever be a time when I would need to hear all of this _more_ than tonight after… what happened.

 _No_.

I don’t want to think about that.

Thinking about it won’t change that it happened. It’ll just hurt. 

I’ve been through this already. I _know_ I can get through this. 

I’m strong, stronger than I was back then. 

I didn’t let Roman destroy me. I won’t let this destroy me either.

I _won’t_.

**…**

**Simon**

Please be even more fucking cryptic next time. Fucking arsehole. 

God, I hate him so much. How can Baz put up with that bloke.

 _No_ , the fact that Baz puts up with that bloke isn’t the reason why I hate him, I don’t know what you mean.

But honestly, couldn’t he just fucking tell me what’s wrong with Baz? It must be something serious for his _boyfriend_ to call me, asking me to come. It must be something serious for Baz to _want_ me to come. _Need_ me to come.

Baz needs me.

It makes some deranged feeling of satisfaction grow in my chest. 

Baz has Lamb, but he still needs _me._

I’m a horrible person.

I shouldn’t be so excited that Baz wants to see me. Whatever pushed him to want that must be bad, and I hate the thought of Baz going through something difficult.

He’s faced so many hardships, already…

I’ve had my share of shitty experiences too, but I think things were definitely worse for Baz. He deserves some peace now. 

That’s the whole point of us not talking to each other, after all. For him to have peace.

I guess that was the right thing to do, since on the one day he sees me, something “difficult” happens to him…

Maybe I should stay away from Baz, if I want him to have a good life.

But… 

But he doesn’t seem to want me out of his life. I wouldn’t be taking the tube at night, when the only people still in it are either drunk or going partying -the line is blurry between those two categories- to go to him, if he wanted me out of his life.

**…**

**Lamb**

“By the way…” I start, looking down at Baz. He looks so tranquil there, lying against my leg. 

He opens his eyes, craning his neck to meet my gaze. 

“Hm?”

“Simon should arrive soon… What do you want to do? Do you want to tell him? Do you want _me_ to tell him?”

His expression becomes somber. 

I make the soft movements of my hand in his hair even softer. 

**…**

**Baz**

I’m not sure I want to tell Snow, not sure I want to see his reaction, but he’ll be a pain in the arse if he doesn’t know, and it’s stupid to ask him to come here only to hide the reason why I need him. 

I shift until I’m on my back. It makes it easier to look at Lamb. The bastard just _had_ to stay sat when I lied down. 

“Please tell him. And tell him not to mention it. I don’t want to talk about it, that’s not why I wanted him to come.”

“Alright. I’ll tell him that. But… may I ask why you wanted him to come? Since you don’t want to talk about it, I suppose that it’s not only because he’s already been with you as you faced something like this.”

I can still hear some anger in Lamb’s voice. He does his best to control it, of course, but it’s here. I didn’t think it’d make him so angry, that someone would… That someone _has_ …

He didn’t react like that when I told him about Roman.

But I suppose there’s a huge difference between being _told_ something happened and _seeing it_ happen.

I shiver.

How can Lamb even look at me after seeing this? How can he be so calm around me? I’d be fucking losing my mind if I had seen someone I care for in that situation.

“I don’t know… I just… I felt like I needed him. I still do. I… You’re helping _so much_ already, but I have a feeling that if I had both you _and_ Simon here… It would be better. Are you upset about it?” I ask, because even if I refuse to feel guilty for wanting Simon here, I don’t like thinking about the fact that it may make Lamb angry.

He shakes his head.

“No. I’m not overly fond of him…”

“Neither is he of you,” I comment.

Lamb chuckles. 

“That’s true. As I was saying, I’m not overly fond of him, but I want what’s best for you. If that’s Simon’s presence, well, I suppose I can put up with it. I just hope he’ll stay civil,” he says, sounding a little disgruntled by the end of his sentence. 

“I hope you will _both_ stay civil,” I tell him with a teasing smile. 

“Excuse you,” he says, putting his free hand over his heart dramatically. “ _I_ am extremely civil.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah. Sure.”

**…**

**Simon**

At least he didn’t lie, his club _is_ close to a station. I didn’t remember that from that night, all those months ago, when I came here for my birthday, but I don’t remember much of that night except for my encounter with Baz in the loo. 

Once I’m there, I take my phone out, cringing at the time. I should _definitely_ be sleeping by now on a normal day.

[2:48 am] **i’m in front of your building, how do i get in?**


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

**Lamb**

I have to give him that, he came quickly enough, considering where he comes from and the fact that it’s almost 3 in the morning. 

I think he must have been in bed already when I called, he’s wearing pyjama pants. He came all the way here, probably took the tube, in pyjama pants.

That’s a dedicated man if I’ve ever seen one. 

“Hello,” I tell him as I gesture to him to come inside. 

He practically _runs_ inside.

I close the door behind him and watch as he looks around. If he’s expecting to see Baz, he won’t see much here. 

“Where is he?” 

So he is expecting to see Baz. 

“Not in this room. He’s in my flat, we’ll go there in a moment.”

“Why not now?” he asks shortly, crossing his arms on his chest.

I sigh. “Because I have to tell you what happened before we get there. You might want to take a seat,” I tell him, waving in the general direction of the booth seatings. 

Concern flashes in his eyes, and he doesn’t even argue. He must have understood that this was serious. 

I’m not sure how to go with this. I don’t know if I should simply tell him point blank or if I should try to make him understand…

I decide on the first option. The longer I’m here with Simon, the more time Baz spends alone in the flat. 

“So… tonight Baz…” I pause. It’s harder to say than I imagined. 

Simon looks at me expectantly, bouncing his leg.

“Tonight Baz…?” he says, his apprehension clear in his voice.

I bore my eyes into his, looking at a shade of blue Baz has told me would always bring him back to Simon, and I say, “He was raped.”

His face falls, horror deforming his features. His eyes shine with both anger and tears. 

**…**

**Simon**

No.

It’s not possible.

Not _again_.

No, no, life can’t be this cruel.

He can’t have…

_Not again._

I remember the litany of “stop, stop, stop” he sobbed in Mrs Bunce’s office as his memories came back, I remember his tears and the haunted look on his face. I remember him petrified with panic, that one time, when I put a blindfold on him. I remember the blood in the sink, the pain in his voice as he called himself dirty. 

He can’t go through any of that again.

Hasn’t he been through fucking enough already?

**…**

**Lamb**

“Simon?” I say tentatively after a few seconds without any kind of response. 

He seems to snap out of his thoughts, his eyes focusing on me.

“How… How did this happen? Weren’t you with him? What the fuck went wrong?”

 _Weren’t you with him_. 

I grit my teeth.

“He was here at the club. No, I wasn’t with him.”

I should have been.

He scoffs, standing from his seat, rage in his eyes. It’s not anger at the situation anymore. It’s directed at me, I know it. 

“Well you should have been! See what bloody happened! So you can control when he fucking has to leave a place but you can’t make sure he’s safe in your damn club?”

I don’t do Simon the pleasure of showing the effect his words has on me. Instead, I say, very calmly, “Yelling at me now won’t change anything. He’s waiting for you, wouldn’t you rather go see him?”

**…**

**Simon**

It’s probably unfair and not right to be mad at him, I wasn’t angry at Dev and Niall back when Roman hurt Baz, and yet they were with him at the party, and I know that there’s no one to blame but whoever did this to Baz, but I’m so fucking _angry_ and I have no one except Lamb to direct my anger towards. 

I take a deep breath, trying to unclench my fists. When I do, I see that I have little marks in the shape of moon crescents where my nails dug in the skin. 

“Yeah, you’re right. Take me to him,” I say, still hostile.

The only reason I’m even tolerating breathing the same air as him is because I’m doing it for Baz. If I could be here for Baz without having to interact with his boyfriend, I _would._

He starts walking, and I follow him.

“Another thing,” he says. “Baz doesn’t want to talk about it, so don’t ask questions. I don’t care what you two do or say, but keep his mind off it. That’s what he wants.”

“Has he talked to you about it?” I ask, seriously this time.

I can set my jealousy aside for this. It’s important. Baz _can’t_ keep this to himself, it doesn’t matter if I’m not the one he confides in. If he talked to Lamb… Well, at least he talked to someone.

He shakes his head. “No. But I talked him into having a session with his therapist as soon as possible to talk to her about it. I assumed he’d be more comfortable sharing this with someone who’s not attached to him the way a friend or family is, and it seems I was right since he accepted.”

Even I have to admit that was a good idea. Besides, his therapist can probably _actually_ help him by making him talk about it. If she’s half as good for him as she was for me, then talking to her does seem like the best option.

“Okay. So no talking about it.”

“No talking about it,” Lamb confirms. “You’re just his friend coming to have a sleepover.”

The way he says it makes me feel like Baz and I are little kids having a party. But maybe that’s what this is. Maybe Baz wants us to be little kids having a party.

Merlin, I can’t wait to see him to actually _know_ what he wants from me. 

Up until yesterday, he hadn’t talked to me in over two months, and now he asks after _me_ instead of Dev, or Niall, or both to distract him?

This is so weird.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

What is my relationship with Baz if not weird, after all?

**…**

This place is so damn fancy. Baz must feel like a fish in water here, even though I know if the decoration was up to him it’d be a little more homey. There _would_ be decoration, other than the few pretentious paintings on the walls, if it was up to him.

He’s still nowhere in sight, though, but Lamb hasn’t stopped walking so I guess Baz simply isn’t in this room.

I keep walking too. We pass next to an open kitchen which looks _amazing_ -and super clean, they mustn't use it so often- and then we’re in a small corridor with three doors. Lamb opens the one on the right, and we walk in a huge bedroom, probably as big as Baz’s room at his parents’ place. 

My eyes fly to bed, to _Baz_. He’s sitting crossed-legged in the centre of it, a pile of snacks gathered in a large bowl and the remote laid on the bed next to him. 

If not for the fact that his shoulders are lower than usual, as if weighed down by an invisible burden, and that the smile he gives me -us, I think with annoyance- is a little smaller and less sincere than his usual smiles, I would have no way of telling that something so awful happened to him earlier tonight. 

It seems like he really intends on changing his mind instead of letting his thoughts eat away at him. 

I suppose it’s a good thing, as long as he doesn’t completely ignore the fact that it even happened. I used to that. Not thinking about things because they hurt. Turns out that wasn’t a brilliant strategy. 

“Hello,” Baz says.

“Hi.”

“Thanks for coming. Really.” I can tell by the look in his eyes just how much he means it. He pats the space on his left side on the bed. I used to sleep on his left side. “Come here.”

I don’t need him to say more to obey. 

Fuck, that bed is huge. We’re not completely pressed against one another, and yet, there’s still plenty of room on Baz’s other side. 

“Well,” Lamb says, making my eyes go back to him. His hand is on the door handle. “If you need me, I’ll be in my office. I have emails to send.”

Wait, he’s leaving _me_ alone with _Baz_? I thought he’d be keeping a close on us to make sure I wasn’t trying to steal his boyfriend or something.

I mean, Baz _did_ blow me last time we were alone together at night. Not that I think he’d have sex with me tonight, even if we were both free and wanted to, but still, if I was Lamb, I _wouldn’t_ leave us alone.

Doesn’t he ever get jealous?

**…**

**Baz**

He doesn’t understand when I talk, does he?

I did tell him I wanted Simon _and_ him here.

“Why on earth would you leave this room?” I tell him, cocking an eyebrow.

“You wanted Simon to be here. He’s here. You don’t need me anymore.”

Idiotic. Completely idiotic. I’m surrounded by morons.

“I want _the both of you_ here, Lamb. You can send your emails from here, so please stay,” I say, reaching out with one hand.

Snow doesn’t even sigh or cringe when I ask Lamb to stay. I have to say, I’m surprised. In a good way, though. He seems to be making an effort not to be contrary.

“Please,” I say again, seeing that Lamb hasn’t moved.

This time he steps forward. I keep my hand where it is until he grabs it, and I wait until he has on knee on the mattress to pull on his hand as I lie back down, making him fall with me. 

I chuckle when he gasps, before any sound he could make is muffled by the pillow where he’s fallen face first. 

I hear Simon snort. 

“Brat,” Lamb groans before turning around, lying on his back, which is a little more dignified. 

I make the most of the fact that Snow doesn’t seem to want to cause a scene for seeing me with Lamb to bring his hand to my lips, kissing it to apologize. 

Then, I turn to Snow, pulling on his arm.

“Come here too, you numpty. And take the snacks.”

He reaches for the bowl at the same time as I pat the bed until my hand falls on the remote.

I’m turning the tv on when Snow lies down too, setting the bowl on his stomach. I would make fun of him, but with three of us on the bed, there’s not enough space to put the bowl down anywhere close enough to our hands if it’s not _on_ one of us. 

Something I _can_ make fun of him for, however…

“Snow, you did _not_ cross London in your pyjamas.”

He flushes.

“I left in a hurry, so I didn’t think of changing, and I didn’t even realize I was wearing pyjamas. I sleep in trackies most of the time,” he mumbles. 

“You’re an idiot,” I say with amusement in my voice.

He _is_ an idiot, but Merlin knows I’m grateful for his presence with me right now.

“Shut up and put something on the telly.”

“You shut up.”

“No, you shut up.”

“ _The both of you_ , shut up,” Lamb says.

Simon glance at me and we both start laughing. 

**…**

“Baz. Basilton, no,” Snow says as I look for what I want to watch on Netflix.

“What?” I say innocently, even though I know quite well why he’s saying that.

“You are not…” I click on Sherlock. “Oh, fuck you. I’m sick of that show.”

Lamb looks up from his phone, where he started typing one of those emails he has to send. “What show? Oh God.”

I’m going to be offended, honestly. Am I not allowed to enjoy my show?

Simon pushes himself up on his elbows to look at Lamb. “He still watches that often?”

Lamb shakes his head in despair.

“All the time. We bought that tv for the bedroom so that he could watch Netflix here and I thought he was going to enjoy the variety of options but _no_ , he only watches maybe 3 different shows and movies. It’s exhausting.”

“I know right!” Snow exclaims, nodding vigorously. “That used to drive me crazy. Whenever I asked him to choose something to watch, he went for something we’d already seen. It’s so boring.”

I dig my nails in the skin of Lamb’s hand and kick Snow’s leg, getting surprised sounds out of them. 

They’re making fun of me so they deserve it. 

“I don’t want to commit to something new,” I say as I choose an episode to watch. “I’m very fine with the things I’ve already watched. The two of you are just _mean_.” 

I snatch a small bag of crisps from the bowl and open it loudly as the episode starts. 

“And he still eats those disgusting crisps,” Snow comments, apparently not impressed at all by my kick.

I should have kicked him harder. 

“I don’t know how he does it,” Lamb answers. “It tastes awful.”

“I’m not listening to any of you anymore, you’re not interesting.”

**…**

They stop teasing me, after some time, and Lamb even lets go of his phone. I don’t know if he’s done writing his emails or if he simply decided he’d go back to it tomorrow, but either way, now he’s simply watching the television with Simon and I. 

Snow is dozing off, his head almost on my shoulder, and I don’t have it in me to shrug him away, even though maybe I shouldn’t let my ex sleep on my shoulder when my boyfriend is right here. 

But Lamb isn’t complaining and I like the warm feeling of Snow’s cheek against me, that I can feel even through my pyjamas, so I’m not going to move him.

Instead I focus on that. On the warmth of him, and on his regular breathing. 

I focus on Lamb’s hand in mine, on the slow movements of his thumb on my skin, on the smell of his cologne, that always lasts through the night because he sprays himself before going down to the club. 

I focus on this.

On them, two of the people I love most.

On _nothing_ else but them. 

And I feel safe.

**…**

I’m starting to fall asleep myself, halfway through a second episode, when Lamb moves next to me. 

I open my eyes, looking at him with confusion in them. 

“Where are you going?” I ask, my voice heavy with sleep.

“Sorry I thought you were sleeping. I’m going to change, I don’t fancy sleeping in a suit.”

“Oh.”

That makes sense.

He squeezes my hand, then he lets go and stands from the bed. 

“Wait a minute, I’m coming with you.”

I move Simon off my shoulder carefully, wincing when his breath catches. Thankfully, he doesn’t wake up, so I get out of bed too, on Lamb’s side, where he’s waiting for me. He’s already taken pyjamas, that he folds over one of his arms while the other goes around my waist.

We get out of the room discreetly, and enter the bathroom. 

I whine when he turns on the lights -it’s really bright here- making him chuckle. “You wanted to come with me. You could have stayed in the room where it’s all nice and dark.”

**…**

**Lamb**

“I needed to talk to you,” he says, a seriousness that I don’t like in his voice.

I thought he had managed to relax a little, as he watched his show and ate his snacks, trapped between Simon and I. It seems that I was wrong. 

I start unbuttoning my shirt. “What about?”

“I… It’s… I just… I don’t…” he starts, looking more and more frustrating each time he fails to say what he wants to say. He’s fidgeting. 

“Baz,” I say firmly enough to make him focus on me. “It’s alright love, take your time.”

I take my shirt off and am undoing my belt when I see him drop to his knees next to me.

Oh.

Even now, Baz doesn’t kneel without being asked to that often.

“Basil, what is it?”

“I… I know that on the phone I joked about flirting with other people, but I didn’t, Sir. I promise I didn’t flirt.”

Oh my God.

This boy’s mind must be such a nightmarish place. 

How could he think that _I_ think he flirted with the man who…

I crouch in front of him, cupping his face. I try to make him look at me but he keeps his head stubbornly down and I’m not going to force his jaw up, I’d only hurt him. 

“I know you didn’t. God, I didn’t think _for a second_ that you had, baby. Get these ideas out of your head,” I say, as I kiss his hair. 

I know one of those spells he uses is **Kiss it better**. I wish I could do that. Kiss his head, and erase all the hurt and torment inside of it. Stop him from making up those horrible things. 

“I didn’t want you to think I had… I didn’t want you to think I’d been bad,” he says, as he plays with the hem of his shirt. 

“I know you haven’t been,” I tell him, making my voice soft. “You’re always so good for me. I’m so lucky to have you.”

_I’m sorry I wasn’t as good with you. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you._

I won’t tell him that. I know he’ll say that I can’t be with him 24/7, that I don’t have to beat myself up about this. That I do enough already.

Even if it _wasn’t_ enough.

“Are you really?” he asks, finally looking up at me. 

I give him a smile. “Of course I am. Who wouldn’t be grateful to have someone as perfect as you?”

His cheeks take a faint pink shade at the praise and I know he’s gotten out of his head. 

He’s not as well as he was in the room, but he’s definitely better than a minute ago.

“If I’m this good,” he says, with a teasing smile but an hesitant voice. “Maybe I could get my collar back, Sir?”

“Are you sure? With Simon here?”

He shrugs.

“It’s too dark in the room for him to see it if he wakes up before I cover up, and I’ll wear a turtleneck tomorrow. Please, I’d really like to have it back.”

I can’t say no when he asks for something like this, can I?

I don’t answer anything, I simply stand back up and walk to the counter where his collar has been resting all day. 

“About Simon,” he says while I’m coming back. “I’m really glad that you let him come and that you didn’t fight. It really means a lot to have you and him both by my side right now.”

I stand behind him, which makes him automatically straighten his back and position his head just the right way for me to put the collar around his neck.

“Anything for you, love,” I answer as I lock it. “Besides, when he isn’t showing me how much he hates me, Simon isn’t so bad to be around.”

“Thank you, Sir,” he says when he feels that I’ve let go of his collar. 

I tap the back of his neck twice, and he stands. When he turns around to look at me, I see that he has a smile on his face.

“He isn’t so bad, is he? I know he hasn’t shown that side of himself to you at all, but he’s really sweet and kind. He’s the nicest person I know.”

I feel his fingers brush my skin when he takes hold of my belt, taking it off the loops on my trousers in one swift motion. I glance at him, but he only gives me a smile before starting to talk again.

“As I was saying.” He undoes the button of my trousers. “Simon’s really lovely. I don’t want to rush into anything with him, especially considering that friendship is something we’ve never really done.” His fingers are on my fly now, pulling it down. “But when I do start hanging out with him, I’d like to do it here, sometimes, so that maybe the two of you could be friends too.” This time it’s my trousers that he pulls down. They fall at my feet, and I step out of them. “Would that be okay?”

He grabs my pyjamas and hands them to me. 

“Well, if he behaves like he did tonight, I don’t see why I would mind him coming here.”

I’m barely done putting the pyjamas on when he wraps his arms around me, hugging me loosely, but closely. I place a hand on his back and a kiss on his forehead. 

“Thank you,” he says, and I’m not exactly sure why.


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it’s a chapter this time

**Lamb**

I can’t fall asleep that night, not after what happened. After nearly two hours trying to sleep, unsuccessfully, my mind plagued by unpleasant thoughts, I give up and get out of bed, getting Baz off me as carefully as I can without shaking him -and incidentally, Simon- too much.

I quickly change into a pair of jeans and a comfortable shirt, and take clothes out for Baz. Choosing his clothes is something I have only done a few times, and it was always because I had… certain plans in mind, but today, it’s because I’m afraid he might forget he has to put clothes that cover his neck. It takes him a moment to fully wake up in the morning, if he doesn’t see the clothes when he exits the room, he won’t think of putting them on. Besides, considering how tired he was when he asked me to put his collar back on, he might even forget he has it. Most of the time, because of how used to wearing it he has gotten, he only remembers that it’s here when he sees it, or feels it when he reaches up to tug on it, but I know for a fact he wouldn’t want Simon to see it, so it’s better to take precautions.

As I’m on my way to leave the room, I take a moment to look at Baz and Simon. They’re not cuddling, exactly, but Simon’s head has somehow ended up on Baz again, and his body is turned to him like a sunflower to the sun. One of Baz’s arms isn’t visible, hidden somewhere behind Simon’s body. 

I can almost feel him slipping through my fingers already. Once he’ll set his mind on getting Simon back… Well, he won’t be mine much longer.

I hope he’ll at least still want me in his life, when he’ll eventually go back to Simon -because he will, I know he will. He talks about friendship for now, but he has this gleam in his eyes when he says Simon’s name that leaves no doubt about his feelings for him. They need to sort out whatever it is that they have to sort out, and then, they’ll get back together.

The thought makes my heart clench. I’m not jealous, it’s not that. 

Baz is young, he still has all those beautiful ideas about love. He’d be better with someone who actually loves him like that, I know that, and I respect that. What bothers me is not knowing if he will still want me to be part of his life, if we’re not fucking anymore. 

I could let go of this relationship we have without too much trouble, but I’m not sure I could let go of him as easily. 

But Simon seems to be the jealous type, I don’t think he’d like his boyfriend hanging out with his ex, so despite everything I could ever tell him about making decisions for himself, if Baz considered he had to choose between not upsetting Simon and keeping me as a friend… I can only assume I wouldn’t be seeing him anymore. 

I shake that thought.

Even if those two do get back together, it won’t be now. I’ve still got time with Baz. 

**…**

I decide to use my time alone to write the emails and make the calls I couldn’t last night. I’d like to be able to be with Baz as much as he needs, and that can’t happen if I’m buried in work, so each minute when he _doesn’t_ need me is a minute I can’t lose. 

Besides, the quicker I’m done organizing all of this, the quicker I can give my full attention to him. He’s already quite demanding, when it comes to attention, when everything’s alright, so I can only assume he’ll need to be cared for even more in the next few days, weeks, who knows. 

Not that I mind. My days could get quite long and lonely before he moved here. 

He still argues that he _hasn’t_ moved here, but most of his clothes are in my closet, the bathroom smells of cedar and bergamot each morning, the pillows on the couch are arranged the way he likes, his favourite mug, some white thing one of his sisters has drawn on, is always somewhere between the coffee table, the floor of the patio or the office, the side of the kitchen sink, or the crockery cabinet. And of course, he has the keys. So if you ask me, he _has_ moved here. 

I think he didn’t want to admit it because saying he lives here would be too much of a commitment for a relationship he thought -by my fault- wasn’t so serious. 

At least, we’ve talked about it now. He knows how I feel about him. I hope it’ll make him more comfortable. I’m not blind, I can tell he cares for me, it must have weighed on him to have some sort of feelings for me and to think I didn’t have any for him. 

“Hello.”

The unfamiliar voice startles me. Confused, I look up, and my eyes fall on Simon.

I’d almost forgotten he was here. 

“Hello,” I answer. “Is Baz still asleep?”

“Yes.”

I nod, before waving my hand in the direction of the kitchen. “If you want to eat or drink anything, help yourself.”

I look down at my laptop again when he heads towards the kitchen. I finish typing the email I had started before I got lost in my thoughts, as I hear the fridge and cupboards open, a cup or glass being set on the counter, water running from the tap, and the kettle being put on. I’m hitting send only a minute before Simon appears in the living room again, a fuming cup in his hands. He comes and sit on the armchair the furthest from me, not saying a word, but I can feel him glancing at me every few seconds.

I close my laptop and set it on the coffee table, sit more comfortably, and look back at Simon. His cheeks flush when I catch him looking at me. 

“Do you have something to say?” I ask him.

He puts his cup down. Ah. So he _has_ something to say. 

“I don’t like you,” he blurts out. The words surprise me. Not that they’re surprising in themselves, I simply wasn’t expecting them.

“Surprisingly, I could figure that out on my own.”

He clicks his tongue. 

“And I think you don’t like me either,” he continues as if I hadn’t interrupted him. “but we both care for Baz, right?”

“Of course. At least _I_ do.”

I know he does too. You don’t cross the city in the middle without even really knowing why just because someone wants you to be with them if you don’t care for them. But it wouldn’t hurt to hear him say it again. I still have some doubts about him. 

He breathes out heavily through his nose. “I _do_ care too, and _because_ I care, I’m willing to… make efforts. I don’t like it, but you’re part of Baz’s life. If I want to be part of his life again, I have to accept that you’re here too. All I’m saying is, if we happen to have to see each other, I’ll behave, for Baz’s sake,” he says seriously, looking at me with determination in his eyes. “Will you too?”

He _really_ wants to be back in Baz’s life, it seems.

“I’m not the one who’s more likely to act like a child, but yes, I will. It’s a good thing you bring this up, because this is actually something that Baz has talked to me about and that I would like to tell you about. He probably will tell you himself, but this is just a heads-up. He would like us to be friends. For the same reason as you want us to be civil with one another. He cares about both of us. It would hurt him if we were constantly throwing mean comments at the other whenever we happened to be in the same room. I’m not opposed to the idea of trying to be friends, but I also won’t be nice to you if you do not reciprocate any kindness and I will _specifically_ not tolerate disrespect, towards myself, or _Baz_ , or our relationship.”

He scoffs at that. “Your _relationship_. Maybe if you didn’t fucking control him, I’d have nothing to say about it,” he mumbles.

He really didn’t like that Baz asked my permission to stay out longer, did he?

I sigh. 

“I’m going to tell you something, Simon. Yesterday, when he was at your place, Baz was feeling so distressed because of those comments you made about our relationship that he felt he needed to call me to be reassured and to calm down. I won’t have that happening again. I couldn’t care less what you think about it ; our relationship isn’t yours to judge. It is even worse for you to dare give your opinion when it makes Baz doubt and feel bad about something that is good for him. He shouldn’t be made to feel like there’s something wrong with him, with us, because our relationship does not work the way you envision relationships.”

“I didn’t say it to make him feel bad,” he groans, drawing his knees up and against his chest.

“What great defense, incredible argumentation. Have you considered law school?”

He glares at me.

“It doesn’t matter that you didn’t ‘say it to make him feel bad’, it still bothered him. Besides, what on earth did you think gave you the right to comment on our relationship when you know _nothing_ about it?”

“I don’t need to know that much to say that him asking for your permission to be somewhere is fucking weird,” he answers, annoyance ringing in his voice. Thankfully, he’s mindful to keep it down not to wake Baz up, though really, it takes some effort to wake that boy up. “He’s an adult, he shouldn’t have a bloody curfew, especially if it’s given by _you_ . You’re his boyfriend not his dad. You say this is good for Baz but you’re controlling him, how can _that_ be good for _anyone_?”

God, I feel like I’m reliving the questioning Baz’s cousin made me undergo when he learnt the full extent of our relationship. Why do I have to keep explaining what should just be my and Baz’s business to other people?

I lean towards him, resting my elbows on my lap.

“Have you considered that maybe I’m _not_ controlling him? When you say that I control him, you assume that he blindly obeys my orders, that he doesn’t have a say in anything, but that’s not how it works. See, there’s this thing that Baz and you apparently aren’t very familiar with called boundaries. Baz and I _communicate…_ ”

**…**

**Baz**

When I wake up, I’m alone. It makes my heart race for a second, before I realize that it’s probably just because Simon and Lamb woke up before me, not because they abandoned me. 

I get out of bed, shaking that irrational thought, and notice that there are clothes on the desk. A pair of jeans, a tank top, and that large, warm turtleneck jumper Daphne gave me for Christmas. 

Lamb must have prepared them for me.

The thought make me smile.

The few times he’s prepared clothes for me, it was because he wanted me to look nice when he took me out, before coming home and either asking me to make a show out of taking those beautiful clothes off, or practically ripping them off of me.

Whichever it was, he always ended up fucking me.

That’s not what this is right now, though. He isn’t making a pretty present for him to unwrap later out of me. I think… I think he just wants to take care of me.

Which is why I’m smiling like an idiot.

The other times, it already made me feel all warm inside, to be wearing clothes _he_ had chosen, but today, it does even more. Maybe I should ask him to do that more often.

I put the clothes on slowly -I still haven’t fully woken up- as well as a pair of socks. Even with the floor heating, my feet get cold. 

Then, I head out of the room, to see where the two of them are and what they’re up to.

To see if they haven’t killed each other, and to make sure Snow didn’t leave while I was still sleeping. I didn’t specifically ask him to stay in the morning, but I would be a little hurt if he had gone back to his place without saying goodbye. 

Thankfully, the moment I’m in the corridor I can see him, sitting on an armchair. He seems to be having a chat with Lamb, and he has his back to me, so he can’t see me. Lamb can, though. He glances at me discreetly without stopping talking, and I understand that I have to make myself discreet not to interrupt what he’s saying with my arrival.

So instead, I listen, to be able to tell when it would be appropriate for me to chime in.

“...We both agree on every aspect of our relationship. I wouldn’t tell him when to come home if it was not something he was comfortable with, but it _is_.”

Oh Merlin, did Snow whine about that again? And to _Lamb_? 

He’s insufferable.

Well, at least Lamb is the one explaining it to him. I’m not sure I could have done it in a way that would make sense for Simon, he would have just gotten angry and said Lamb had manipulated me into thinking it was okay, or something like that.

I think that because of the way he was treated by the Mage, Snow isn’t fond of orders.

“Because _he_ doesn’t see it as control,” Lamb continues, and I nod instinctively, even though none of them are looking at me. “He sees it as what it is, me taking care of him. When I tell him to be home by a certain time, it’s so that I can make sure he _is_ home by that time. If he isn’t, I can tell that there is something wrong and react accordingly. On top of that, doing as he’s told is just another way for him to please me, which he finds rewarding. He doesn’t _have_ to obey me, he does it because he _wants_ to.”

Lamb gives me a sign as discreet as his glance was, nodding his head, so I say “That’s true,” as I resume walking.

Snow jumps, and turns around quickly. “Jesus Christ,” he says, a hand over his heart. “Do you think it’s funny to sneak up on me like that?”

“Yes,” I tell him with a smirk as I reach the part of the living room they’re in. 

I stand between the couch and the armchair. Seeing that there’s a mug in front of Snow, but not one anywhere near Lamb, I look at him. “Do you want a cup of coffee?”

“Please.”

Snow grabs my arm before I can leave.

“You’re really okay with that? Him telling you what to do?”

I hear Lamb sigh.

“Yes, Simon, I really am,” I say, patting Snow’s hand. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t obey. Now, can you let me go make coffee?”

I wiggle my arm, and he lets go of it.

**…**

We all stay silent while I’m in the kitchen. 

They’re still not talking when I come back, Snow sipping on his tea while Lamb is simply sitting on the couch, looking over at the kitchen. 

I hand him his cup when I arrive next to him, my own cup in my hands. He takes it with a smile. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome,” I smile back as I lower myself until I’m sitting on the floor, leaning partly against the couch and partly against Lamb’s leg. Then, I look up at Snow. “Are you staying here today?”

He shrugs. I don’t know what else I expected.

When I roll my eyes, he says. “I mean, I don’t have anything important to do, so I can stay if you want.”

“Stay then.” I rest my head completely on Lamb’s thigh, looking up at him. “And you? Anything important to do.”

Usually that’s when he’d have made a bad sexual joke, but Snow is here, so he won’t. I can practically hear the joke just from the look in his eyes, though.

“No. I’ve dealt with the things I had to deal with, so I’m completely free. I might have to answer a few phone calls, but that’s all.” He slides his hand inside my hair. “My time is all yours for as long as you need.”

“Well, except at night.”

“Including at night,” he says, as if it was obvious. “I’m closing the club for a moment, Baz.”

My eyes go wide, and I shift in order to be looking at him without craning my neck. I move so quickly I spill some of my coffee on the wooden floor.

“You’re going to _what_?”

“ _Baz_ ,” he says, sounding just as shocked as me. “You were… I can’t keep the club open after what happened. I have to close for a while, and not only because I want to be with you as much as possible.”

“But your employees?”

They all _need_ this job. Some more than others. Jonas needs both a day and a night job to be able to pay for his expenses and his little brother’s. Jessica has a toddler, she has to have a night job to be able to look after her kid during the day. 

Lamb strokes my hair softly. “Don’t worry about my employees. I’m still paying them. If I have arrangements to make, it’ll be next month, there’s still time before it comes to that.”

That brings me some relief. I became quite close with the staff of the club, since I spend so much time here. I’d hate for them to be in a complicated situation financially because of what happened to me.

“You’re just going to pay people even if they don’t work?” Simon says, sounding astonished.

It brings both my and Lamb’s attention to him.

“Well, yes,” Lamb says. “They shouldn’t have to pay because I decided to close for a moment.”

Snow’s eyes are probably as wide as mine went when Lamb said he was closing.

The poor thing, he must be so shocked to discover Lamb isn’t a complete arsehole, when he was so determined to hate him.

Lamb simply brushes off the topic with a wave of his hand. “Whatever. All of this to say, yes, Baz, I’m free too today. Why? Do you have anything in mind?”

“Nothing specific. I just would like to spend the day with you both. I’m sure we can find something to do.”

**…**

**Simon**

We do.

Thirty minutes later, we’re in the kitchen, making breakfast -well, we woke up so late, it’s more lunch than breakfast- with Lamb bossing us around. I guess that when you’ve been alive for a long time -I wish I knew exactly how long but I don’t want to ask- you learn how to cook.

I have to admit, it’s kind of fun.

Baz teases me when I reach for a knife, telling me to make sure I won’t cut myself, which leads to us telling the story of the first time Baz drank my blood.

I thought that talking about when Baz and I were a couple to his _current boyfriend_ would hurt, but it’s actually okay. It feels good to be able to talk about Baz and I as a couple without feeling like a weight has fallen on my chest. 

It seems we _did_ need all this time apart.

I just hope Baz won’t ask that we stop seeing each other again after today, though. I know that he might take some distance, because even if he’s not thinking about it now, he has to process what happened to him, but I hope it won’t take another two months for us to meet again.

The only thing that’s not so nice about that whole cooking thing is hearing Lamb call Baz pet names. I don't think he does it to get on my nerves, he’s just used to it, but I can’t help feeling some jealousy when he says “sweetheart” or “baby” or “love”, making Baz’s eyes a little brighter each time. 

But at least, they’re not shamelessly flirting in front of me -which is totally what Baz and I did when we were cooking together, or when we did _anything_ together, really- so it’s not that bad.

I hear Baz sigh.

He’s been tugging on his jumper for a moment. His cheeks are even a little bit pink -it’s gorgeous, _he’s_ gorgeous. He’s in front of the stove, cooking eggs, so I guess he must be hot.

He moves the eggs inside the pan again, which serves no real purpose apart from occupying his hands, and then he seems to get too fed up with his jumper, and takes it off.

The shirt he’s wearing underneath wasn’t completely tucked in his jeans, so it rides up, showing part of his back and sides.

I see bruises and scratches, that make my blood boil at the thought that they might not be the kind Baz asked for, but I also see part of a tattoo. He’s gotten another one, it seems. Simple flowers, on his left side. They have colours -different shades of purple and blue- contrary to the other tattoos I could see. It looks lovely. 

He pushes his shirt back down, making me look away in shame even though he can’t have noticed me staring. I force my gaze higher on his body because you’re supposed to watch people’s _faces_ , not their beautiful, pale backs, and I frown at the same time as Lamb clears his throat, rather loudly.

Baz is wearing some kind of weird necklace, definitely not one that looks like anything he used to wear. 

“Baz,” I hear Lamb whisper. It would be too low for anyone to hear, but I heard Baz whisper to me super low so many times, it’s not that difficult for me to make out what Lamb is saying. “Your collar.”

**…**

**Baz**

Fuck. 

I forgot I was wearing it.

**…**

**Simon**

“His what?!”

**…**

**Baz**

_Fuck._


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

**Lamb**

“Collar?” Simon repeats, scrunching his nose up. “Why like you’re a dog or something?”

Here we go again…

Baz stiffens. I think of yesterday, of his too fast breathing and the hint of panic in his voice.

Quickly, I put my hand on his stomach, under his shirt, rubbing it softly. I lean in. “Keep making breakfast, you’re doing great baby.”

He nods almost imperceptibly, and I let go of him, turning my attention back on Simon, who looks at me with angry eyes.

“What _the fuck_ is that,” he says, pointing at Baz’s collar. 

I give him my coldest glare. 

“I don’t think this is any of your business,” I say as I shift, standing between Simon and Baz instead of Baz being between Simon and I. 

Of course, he doesn’t give up that easily

He keeps looking at it. “Is that a _lock_?”

“Yes.”

I keep my voice calm. Being aggressive or yelling won’t make things easier. If anything, me raising my voice will only make Baz more upset. 

Simon steps closer, and I stop him with a firm hand on his chest. “Keep your distance.”

I twist my other arm to hook one of my fingers in the belt hoop of Baz’s jeans, tugging on it. I hope he understands what I mean.

It’s okay. I’m here. You’re alright.

I leave my hand there. 

“Fuck off,” Simon says, stepping aside, and then forward again to reach Baz.

I can feel how much Baz tenses when Simon gets closer, so I stop him again, less gently this time.

I take hold of his arm, and pull him away from Baz until he’s in front of me. “Keep. Your. Distance.”

“I just want to see what that bloody thing is! Why the fuck does he have a _collar_ ? Why does it have a _lock_?”

None of your fucking business, is what it is.

I don’t say that. I can’t get upset. 

Instead, I try to explain. I’m not sure he’ll _understand_ but it’s the best option I have. The _other_ option is to tell him to fuck off and leave my flat. 

But Baz wants him here. 

“This is a submissive collar. It has a lock because it’s not made to be taken on and off the same way you would with a regular piece of jewelry. If he wants it off, he has to ask, because it’s not only for aesthetics, hence the lock. To put it simply, I guess you can see it as something halfway between jewelry bought by a lover and an engagement ring. It’s _not_ like an engagement ring, not for us at least because there’s no projection into the future, it’s not here to signify the promise of a long term commitment, but it still represents a commitment to one person and a desire to show this commitment. In our case, Baz wears his collar as a way of showing that he’s my sub.”

“Your what?”

He still sounds angry. It’s getting harder and harder to stay calm.

Behind me, I can hear that Baz is still working on the food. At least that’s a good thing. It gives him something to focus on other than solely what Simon and I are saying.

“Submissive.” 

I can tell Simon doesn’t like the word. He sneers.

“And you’re going to keep saying that that’s not weird and that’s not bad?” 

I hear Baz take a shaky breath, so I take my hand off his belt hoop and drag my knuckles on his back, under his shirt. 

“I will, because it’s not.”

“It bloody well is!”

I feel my irritation become harder to control.

Baz’s cousin was confused but at least he shut up and _listened_ when I talked to him. I feel like everything I say to Simon flies over his head. 

“You put a collar on him like a pet because he’s ‘your sub’? Like you _own_ him or something? He’s not your fucking thing! It’s… It’s just _gross_.”

**…**

**Baz**

He thinks it’s gross.

He thinks it’s weird.

He thinks it’s bad.

It’s what I want, what I like, and he thinks it’s gross, weird, bad.

He must think _I’m_ gross and weird.

**…**

**Simon**

It makes no bloody sense.

Baz can’t possibly want that, Lamb must have manipulated him into thinking it’s okay, Baz wouldn’t let himself be _owned_ like that. He’s too proud for that.

And the way Lamb said Baz was his _submissive_ as if Baz was some obedient little thing that had to listen to him and do whatever he told him to?

And then… There’s the bruises.

I know Baz likes being hurt in bed, but he had _so many of them_ , at the wedding, and for his skin to bruise, Lamb must have been so violent when he hit him or whatever it was that he did to him. 

It turns my stomach.

There’s no way this is good for Baz, and Dev and Niall are so protective, how can they let that happen? Do they even _know_ how weird his relationship with Lamb is? Or do Baz and Lamb pretend to be a normal couple when they’re with Baz’s friends?

**…**

**Lamb**

“Listen,” I say shortly. “I already told you I wouldn’t tolerate you disrespecting us or our relationship, so…”

“I’m not going to respect something that’s not respectable!” Simon interrupts me. His eyes show nothing but anger and his face is deformed in a disgusted expression. Baz lets out a strangled sound. I want to turn around and put my arms around him. Tell him it’s okay. Shush him and kiss that spot behind his ear that makes him go all soft until he’s calm again. But I can’t. “You control what he does, you fucking mark him as your own, you make him have bruises, it’s not… It’s not _normal_ , it’s not _good_ , it’s not _healthy,_ it’s… it’s disgusting! And borderline abusive! And the worst part is that you make him think it’s okay when it’s _not_!”

_Abusive._

If Simon’s words irritated me -more because I knew they hurt Baz than because I cared about what he was saying-, they didn’t really get to me, but _this_ word…

It’s like a punch in the guts. 

**…**

**Baz**

Weird.

Bad.

Gross.

Disgusting.

Not respectable.

Not normal.

Not good.

Not healthy.

Not okay.

Abusive.

**…**

**Lamb**

I’m trying to find something to answer that isn’t a bunch of insults to let my frustration and irritation out when I hear something that completely petrifies me.

“Red.”

It’s barely a whisper, so low I could think I have imagined it, but I know I _haven’t_ imagined it.

Suddenly, I can’t see Simon anymore, can’t care about his anger or about the horrors he might still be spitting out. 

_Red._

Past a second of initial shock, I turn around, my hands reaching for the buttons on the stove to turn it off, and then for Baz’s hips, making him turn around too, as gently as I can. 

He’s holding a wooden spoon, clenching his fist around it so hard it might break, and his eyes look the way they do when he gets lost in his thoughts.

_Red._

I reach inside my shirt for the key to his collar, taking the chain off and working on unlocking the collar with one hand, which is a more tedious task than it seems, while squeezing his neck with my other hand.

“Baz, I’m here, it’s okay love. Focus on me.”

I could tug on his collar but considering it pretty much caused this whole situation, taking it off seems like a better option.

I put it down on the kitchen counter, and let go of his neck. His eyes don’t seem so lost anymore ; he no longer needs to be grounded, but comforted, so I cup his face, because usually that’s what he needs when he uses his safe words -which hasn’t happened much in the first place. 

He needs me to go soft on him. To be gentle with him. To hold him carefully, tenderly, until he feels safe again.

So that’s what I do.

“You’re alright baby, don’t listen to what he says. It doesn’t matter, he’s wrong you know that.” I kiss his forehead, and move one of my hands to cup the back of his head, keeping him there. I can feel the way his breaths come on my jaw. It’s not quite as slow as it should be yet. “He doesn’t understand, it doesn’t mean that what we do is wrong. It’s not sweetheart, I promise it’s not. It’s not wrong to do it and it’s not wrong of you to want it. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re not weird. You’re perfect, so perfect.” I kiss him again, and then I hesitate. I’ve already said the words, it wouldn’t be too big of a deal to say them again, now, and I’m sure it’s the kind of thing Baz would like to hear now… but they’re still rather terrifying.

“It’s alright baby,” I end up saying, playing with his hair. His breathing is back to normal, now. Only a few more seconds of this and he should be good. 

“Everything’s alright, I’m here. I love you,” I whisper against his skin. 

It _is_ terrifying to say it, but the way he relaxes against me lets me know it was exactly the right thing to do. 

He puts his arms around me, and I hug him back immediately.

“I want him to leave. I don’t want to hear him say any more of those awful things.”

He sounds so fragile, my heart clenches in my chest, before I feel anger making my blood boil as I truly understand what just happened.

Baz used his safeword. He felt so distressed because of what Simon was saying that he needed to use his safeword, something he rarely ever does during scenes. 

“He’s going to leave sweetheart,” I answer.

I kiss his forehead one last time before making a move to leave Baz’s arms. He lets me go, and turns around again, probably not to have to see Simon. 

I turn around to, but with the opposite purpose. I turn around to be able to see Simon.

He looks as petrified as I felt when Baz whispered “Red.”. His eyes are wide and his lips parted.

Good for him. Maybe he has realized how much the bullshit he says about our relationship affects Baz. Maybe he has understood why I said I wouldn’t tolerate disrespect.

I walk towards him, and I don’t stop walking, even when I’m too close to him, so he’s forced to step back. And step back. And step back. Until his back hits the wall.

“Leave. Now,” I say, anger ringing in my voice. “I don’t want you to even _think_ of contacting Baz until you stop being such a fucking cunt. I don’t care about what you think about us. All I ask is for respect, and for you to keep your goddamn opinions to yourself because they hurt Baz. It’s not because our relationship doesn’t fit into _your_ definition of what is normal and what is right that it isn’t. As long as you’re not willing to educate yourself and understand that what we have, despite not being very conventional, is good for Baz -probably even better than the relationship he had with _you_ ever was, I might add- I don’t want you anywhere near my sub. Understood?”

“Go fuck yourself,” he spits out, but his voice isn’t full of fire like it was before. He sounds detached. 

He goes to exit my flat, making sure to bump my shoulder with his as he leaves the room. 

I wait until the door closes to turn back to Baz. He’s resting his hands on the counter, leaning on it, head down.

My poor Baz.

As if he wasn’t in a difficult enough situation already. 

I walk back to him and wrap one of my arms around his middle, laying my other hand over his, intertwining our fingers. 

“I just wanted to spend time with the two of you,” he whispers, his voice weak and wet. I can’t see them but I know he has tears on his cheeks.

If Simon doesn’t beg for Baz’s forgiveness on his knees next time he sees him…

Saying all the things he said would have been unacceptable no matter the context, but it’s so cruel to do it when Baz is already in such a vulnerable state, when all he needs is comfort and love and attention. 

I kiss the back of his neck. “I know baby. I’m sorry about what happened.”

“Why… Why couldn’t he just… I _needed_ him.”

**…**

**Baz**

I needed him, and instead of trying his best to be here for me, he _had_ to find something to be upset about. He _had_ to ruin it all with his jealousy.

Because of course that’s what it is.

Jealousy.

If he wasn’t blinded by it, he would have listened to what Lamb said. I do think part of him is weirded out by our relationship, which makes my heart clench just thinking about it, but if his reaction was so angry and aggressive, it’s because he’s jealous, I’m sure of that.

Dev and Niall were worried. Very worried. Probably more than Snow, because my bruises really scared them, but they didn’t react like _that,_ and they listened to us when we explained.

Snow doesn’t ever fucking listen. 

Besides, I _know_ Snow he have so much to say about my collar if he was the one who had the key to unlock it.

“I know it’s probably not enough,” Lamb says, his breathing hot against my neck. “But I’m here, Baz. I’m not Simon, I can’t give you what Simon can, but I’m here for you. I will be as long as you need me.”

 _I know it’s probably not enough_ . I hate that he thinks that. It’s my fault, I’m the one who said I wanted and needed Simon here, but I never said it to make Lamb feel like I needed Simon because he wasn’t doing enough. He does _more_ than enough. He takes care of me so well. He makes me feel cherished in a way no one had before.

I shift until my back is towards the counter and not him and put my free arm around his neck, resting my face on it. I’m in the perfect place to kiss under his jaw, so I do.

“It’s enough.”

**…**

**Lamb**

I hold him for a moment, letting him cry, then dry his tears, until he pulls back on his own. He gives me a small smile.

“Still want to eat breakfast?” he asks. “The eggs are a little burnt but they should still be edible.”

I brush his hair back. “Let’s taste them to see if they are.”

He smiles a little wider before he turns around again.

I collect his collar and the key on the counter as best as I can without bringing his attention on them as he rummages through the cabinets for two plates and two glasses, and then I go sit at the kitchen table, the collar on my lap while the chain with the key goes back where it belongs around my neck. 

I look at him as he fills our glasses with mixed fruit juice -he argues it’s better than orange juice, and since he’s often the one who buys groceries, that’s what’s in the fridge- and our plates with everything we made ; the eggs, of course, but also toast, beans, sausage, bacon, mushrooms and tomatoes. 

He first brings the glasses to the table, then the plates. I smile, pleased, when I see that he has put almost as much food in his plate as in mine. It was a struggle, to make him eat normal portions of food. 

He kept saying that since he didn’t _need_ to eat as much as a human, he didn’t have to do it, so I made it one of those rules that aren’t _truly_ rules. I won’t scold him for not eating enough, but when he takes the initiative of serving himself a decent amount of food and eats it all, I let him know I’m glad he did. Since he likes when I’m proud of him, he makes efforts to eat well.

“Thank you,” I tell him as he sits down.

“You’re welcome.” He looks at me expectantly. “So, those eggs?”

I shake my head. “So demanding,” I say, taking my knife and fork and cutting a piece of egg, that I bring to my mouth. They _are_ a bit burnt, but it could be worse. “They’re alright. Good job baby.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he starts eating too to hide it.

**…**

“Lamb?”

“Hm?” I say, looking up from my plate.

His is almost empty, but he seems to be done, he’s put his cutlery down. 

“I hope I didn’t freak you out when I said the safe word, earlier. I was feeling overwhelmed and I just…” He pauses. “ When I use it in bed, the thing that’s making me uncomfortable stops and you comfort me, and that’s what I needed at this moment so I thought that saying my safe word would make that happen, and well, it did so I guess it wasn’t such a bad idea but… yeah I’m sorry if it scared you.”

“I must admit, I was disoriented when I heard you say it, but I’m glad you did. It’s true, when we decided on your safe word I assumed it was something you’d only use in bed, but if you’re ever in a situation when you feel the need to use it, do it alright? Just like you did today.”

He nods. “Okay.”

**…**

Later, as we’re lying on the couch, with one of those insufferable shows Baz keeps watching playing in the background, I say. “I had an idea.”

“A good one?” he asks, keeping his face buried against my neck, making no effort whatsoever to look at me.

I think I bothered him when he was trying to fall asleep. Oh well, he could take his nap later. 

“You tell me. I thought maybe we could travel. Since I'm closing the club for a moment, I don’t have to be in London.”

He pushes himself up on his hands to look at me. He’s frowning, which I have to admit isn’t the look I was expecting to see on his face. 

“I… It’s a sweet idea,” he starts, sheepish. “But I think I’d rather stay home. I don’t… We don’t have to change our habits because of what happened. I want life to go on normally. I think that would help me more than a change in scenery. Besides it’s November, not exactly not the best time to travel,” he adds with a smile.

I drag my hand up and down his back softly.

“Alright then. It was just an idea, I don’t mind staying here.” I don’t want him to think I’m upset because he turned down my suggestion. “What’s important to me is that you feel good. If you think it’s better to stay home, we stay home.”

“Great, thank you.”

He smiles, and bends his elbows to lower himself on me until his lips are on mine.

**…**

I wait for him to be in the shower to take my phone out.

I look up some websites on google, select a few that seem to be the most accurate and close to our situation, and paste the link to all of them in a message that I send to Simon.

4:52 pm : _Here, the research you should have done before you accused me of abusing my boyfriend._


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when there’s texting :  
> Simon is in bold  
> Niall is in italics  
> Lamb is in bold and italics

**Simon**

The whole way home, I think about what just happened, which is usually not a great idea. Thinking, I mean. I always end up having upsetting thoughts.

But well, this time, I  _ start  _ with upsetting thoughts. 

They can say it’s not weird all they want, the relationship Baz has with Lamb  _ is  _ weird. I just don’t get how it could be anything else than one-sided.  _ Lamb  _ is the one telling Baz what to do.  _ Lamb  _ is the one locking a fucking  _ collar  _ around Baz’s neck to show that Baz belongs to him.  _ Lamb  _ is the one making Baz’s skin bruise more than I ever thought it could.

How could  _ any  _ of that be good for Baz in any way? Except maybe for the bruises thing. Baz is into pain -which is something I still don’t understand either- so okay, maybe he got those bruises during sex and it’s fine because it got him off, but the rest?

Why would Baz want to be given orders and rules? He never liked it, it always made him roll his eyes and sigh to be told what to do. 

Why would he want that… that collar? Why would he want to be  _ owned _ ? He’s Baz Pitch, he’s too proud to let himself be reduced to someone’s  _ possession _ .

It’s not what the Baz I know would do.

Maybe Lamb has found a way to control him. Can vampires enthrall one another? Maybe Baz is enthralled and that’s why he thinks he’s okay with all of this. He’s been brainwashed. 

Merlin knows  _ I  _ know a lot about brainwashing. I never thought what the Mage did and made me do was wrong when it was happening. He had manipulated me into thinking that it was  _ not  _ wrong. I got super defensive whenever someone -Penny, and even Baz, towards the end- tried to tell me that the Mage was maybe not who I thought he was, and that his behaviour with me was not right. 

The thought that Baz may be in the same kind of situation with his boyfriend makes me want to punch something.

But at the same time…

At the same time, Lamb does seem to care for Baz. And it seems genuine, it’s not the same thing as the fake smiles and pats on the head the Mage gave me.

He called me because Baz needed me, even if he doesn’t like me, and his boyfriend’s ex sleeping in their bed is probably the last thing he could ever wish for. 

He let me stay at his place, was willing to let me stay all day long, because it was what Baz wanted.

He stopped arguing with me immediately when Baz said his safe word to take care of him. He held him in his arms and comforted him until he calmed down. He completely forgot about everything except Baz. 

So I’m conflicted. 

Lamb may be telling the truth, their relationship might truly be good for Baz even with the weird orders and collar things. 

**…**

[3:12 pm] :  **hey niall sorry to bother you but i have a question. don’t tell him i asked that, but what do you know about baz’s relationship with his boyfriend?**

[3:13 pm] :  _ what do you mean? why are you asking that? _

[3:13 pm] : **well, it’s just that i visited baz yesterday because you know it was halloween and it’s a difficult day for us so he asked me to come to his boyfriend’s place and there are a few things that creeped me out and i want to know what you think about it**

[3:14 pm] :  _ what things? _

[3:14 pm] :  **he seems controlling. lamb, i mean. i don’t like that. also there’s this thing that baz wears????? they call that a collar apparently???? a bloody collar??? like for a dog??? and it has a lock and lamb is the one who has the key???**

[3:14 pm] :  _ oh. yeah. that. I see. _

[3:14 pm] :  **not helping niall**

[3:15 pm] :  _ wait a minute, I’m typing. it’s probably going to be long _

[3:15 pm] :  **ok...**

[3:23 pm] :  _ Dev and I also had serious doubts about their relationship, at first. It all started when once, Baz was at our place, and we saw that he had bruises, a lot of them. I was worried and Dev was furious. Baz and I talk about sex more often than he does with Dev, of course, since, you know, they’re cousins, so I already know that Baz wasn’t exactly super vanilla, but Dev didn’t know that, so he didn’t believe Baz meant it when he said he had wanted every bruise he had, so he went to see Lamb. I don’t know what they said, but I know what Baz said to me, and I believe him when he says it’s all consensual and not abuse. He wouldn’t lie about something serious like this. I don’t know if you know, but Daphne’s first husband abused her. It really left a mark on Baz when he found out, he talked about it to me a lot, he looked so hurt and angry that someone could do that. I think that if Lamb showed signs of such a behaviour, Baz would leave before Lamb could cross a line. Besides, I made some research on my own and what I found lined up with what Baz said, so even if I’m a bit skeptical about some aspects of their relationship because it’s not what I’m into personally, I think there’s nothing wrong with it. Baz is doing better and better since he’s started seeing Lamb, and his well-being is what matters to me. What he does in private with his boyfriend, it’s not my business unless he makes it my business. _

[3:24 pm] :  **wait, vanilla?**

[3:24 pm] :  _ the kind of sex you usually have _

[3:24 pm] :  **how do you know what kind of sex i have????😳**

[3:25 pm] :  _ you fucked my best friend, Simon. I know much more about what you do in bed than I ever wished to... don’t you have anything to say about the rest of the things I told you? _

[3:25 pm] :  **yeah, you’re right let’s go back to that. you said you’ve done research, what does that mean? what have you looked up?**

[3:25 pm] :  _ BDSM in general🤷🏻‍♀️ i don’t know the specifics of their relationship so i didn’t know what else to look for _

[3:25 pm] :  **BDSM?😶**

[3:26 pm] :  _ google is free Simon _

[3:26 pm] :  **yeah, alright. so in your opinion, lamb isn’t abusing baz?**

[3:25 pm] :  _ no. I understand your concern, Merlin knows I was concerned too but no.  _

[3:26 pm] :  **you have to admit some things are super weird. like the collar thing???**

[3:27 pm] :  _ yeah, that weirded me out when I saw Baz wearing that thing the first time, but he explained what it meant, and as I said, I did some research, and it doesn’t seem so weird, in the end. besides, I literally walk around every day with a ring that shows the world I’m taken by someone so I guess I can’t be too critical about it when Baz does it too, even if the way he does it is less conventional _

[3:28 pm] :  **does baz also “walk around” with that thing??😳**

[3:28 pm]  _ according to what he told me, no. he said he only wore it when he was at Lamb’s club, never outside, but he spends most of his time at Lamb’s place so I suppose he does wear it a lot no matter what. anyway, not all of us do nothing all day, i have a class starting in two minutes. we could talk more later if you want.  _

[3:28 pm] :  **first of all, fuck you, second of all, why does your class start at 3:30???**

[3:28 pm] :  _ ask my uni🤷🏻‍♀️ _

**…**

I go get my laptop to look up what Niall talked about. BDSM, he said. 

The first result is a Wikipedia article. Penny says Wikipedia isn’t a super reliable source but she says that about the kind of stuff she has to do research on for uni, maybe it’s alright for things that aren’t nerd stuff. 

I open that article. The picture that is used makes me cringe already. It’s a woman with a collar -though one  _ much  _ larger than the one Baz was wearing- and there’s a chain attached to it? And there must be  _ someone  _ holding that chain, holding  _ her  _ like they’re walking a dog. That’s really fucking weird. 

Merlin, does Baz do that? 

I didn’t see the front of his collar, I don’t know if it has those things to attach the chain to. 

I stop looking at that picture before the girl can disappear and change into  _ Baz _ , and read what’s written instead. 

Just what the acronym means makes me uncomfortable. It’s all big, scary words. Bondage. Discipline. Dominance and Submission. Sadomasochism. 

I guess that Dominance and Submission stuff is what Baz and Lamb do. Lamb said Baz was  _ his sub. _

Baz shouldn’t be  _ his  _ anything.

I chase that thought.

Baz isn’t mine anymore. 

The more I tell myself that, the less it makes sense.

**…**

I keep reading the article, frowning at certain things. There are things I just don’t understand, words that make me uncomfortable.

There are those two sentences in particular that I really don’t like. 

_ “The terms submissive and dominant are often used to distinguish these roles: the dominant partner ("dom") takes psychological control over the submissive ("sub")” _

_ “The interaction between tops and bottoms — where physical or mental control of the bottom is surrendered to the top — is sometimes known as "power exchange", whether in the context of an encounter or a relationship” _

Psychological control? That’s so fucking creepy. That’s  _ exactly  _ what I thought it was. Lamb controls Baz. Manipulates him. 

The article also says there’s consent but I don’t get how you can willingly consent to being controlled. That’s the whole point of  _ control _ , you don’t get a choice if you’re the one being controlled, right? How can you consent to what’s happening if someone’s telling you what to do and you just have to  _ obey _ ?

Besides, why would you choose to “surrender” physical or mental control like Wikipedia says? 

I can understand letting go during sex, letting the other take care of you. Baz liked that. But he didn’t let me control  _ him _ , he let me control  _ the situation _ , and it was because he knew that all I wanted was to make him feel good and that I would stop if he showed discomfort.

I wasn’t  _ controlling him _ . I was taking care of him.

I don’t think that’s what  _ they  _ do.

I mean, I don’t know what they do in bed for sure, but since Lamb assumes he can control when Baz goes out, he must assume he can control other things too. 

But at the same time…

_ Consent  _ keeps coming back in the article, and I guess if it’s consensual it’s not so bad, but  _ how  _ can it be consensual? 

There’s some stuff I  _ can  _ understand consenting to, but others simply don’t make sense. 

**…**

Once I’m done looking at this article, I click on one of those blue words that lead me to another article, one about Dominance and submission since that seems to be what Baz and Lamb do.

The article has a lot of sections, so I just look at those that catch my eye, the first being “D/s relationship styles”, since, once again, that seems to be what Baz and Lamb do. 

It makes me even more uncomfortable than the first article.

Fuck, I really hope Lamb doesn’t do some of those things to Baz. There’s stuff mentioned in this that turns my stomach.

“ _ resistance play – forcing the submissive to do something against their will as an intense form of power play _ ”

That’s  _ abuse.  _

My blood boils at the thought that Baz may undergo this. 

I read another section, maybe it’ll get better. “Consent and contracts.”

I  _ want  _ to understand how all of this could be consensual. Maybe that will help.

Apparently this is something people negotiate. They decide what they do. 

I also see the thing Baz said, “red”, that made Lamb turn around and comfort him. 

_ “Within the community of BDSM, there are universal safewords used according to traffic lights and known as "house safewords". Red means stop everything” _

That makes me feel a little better. At least Baz has a way to make it stop if what Lamb does to him becomes too intense, right?

Consent _really_ seems to be a big thing in BDSM. It keeps being mentioned, and the importance of it too.

Maybe Baz  _ isn’t  _ being abused.

**…**

I’m surprised when I receive a message from Lamb.

It reads “ _ Here, the research you should have done before you accused me of abusing my boyfriend. _ ” and there are a bunch of links.

I don’t know how I feel about  _ him  _ sending me stuff to research but at the same time, if it can make me understand their relationship and confirm that Baz isn’t being abused…

Though I guess that if Lamb was abusing Baz, surely he  _ would  _ try to make me see it as something else.

I think I’d need Baz to tell me he’s alright to believe it. He’s a good liar, but I have a fucking degree in Baz Pitch. If he lied to me, I’d know it.

I type a message back.

[4:55 pm] :  **can i talk to baz?**

[4:56 pm] :  **_Read what I sent you._ **

[4:56 pm] :  **i’ve already read some stuff. i want to talk to baz**

[4:56 pm] :  **_He’s in the shower. I’ll ask him if he wants to talk to you when he gets out. If he does, I’ll call you. Either way, read what I sent you._ **

[4:57 pm]  **i told you i already read some stuff**

[4:57 pm]  **_...What have you read?_ **

[4:57 pm]  **wikipedia**

[4:57 pm]  **_Of course_ ** **.** **_I sent you links to forums and articles written by people who are in relationships similar to my and Baz’s. It’s more accurate than Wikipedia._ **

So I look through the links he sent me. Baz takes forever to shower, even if he does call me, it won’t be now. 

I have to say, the articles comfort me a bit. If their relationship is like that, I guess it isn’t so bad. I still wish I could hear it from Baz. 

**…**

Thankfully, he  _ does  _ call me. I didn’t think he would. I hurt him, I would have understood if he didn’t want to talk to me. 

“Hello?” 

“Two things,” Lamb’s voice says. I repress the urge to groan. “First of all : this is your third and  _ last _ chance. He’s given you two chances. You upset him  _ both times _ . Don’t do it again. He’s forgiving, but I’m not, and I don’t like you hurting him  _ at all _ . Second thing, listen to him. I can’t stress this enough. Let him speak, and don’t yell at him. If you raise your voice, he’ll hang up. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” I say, annoyance in my voice.

I hear movement, and then, a voice that I enjoy  _ much more  _ than Lamb’s.

“Hello. You wanted to talk?”

He doesn’t sound angry. It lifts a weight off my chest. He doesn’t resent me too much.

“Yes. It’s just… I’m worried for you, Baz. I… I want to understand. I’ve read some stuff, and what I understood was that you surrender control of yourself to him. I don’t get that. How does that work? Why would you want that? You’re always in control of everything, you  _ like  _ it.”

He chuckles. 

“That’s the thing. I have discovered that I don’t like it that much. I was always in control of everything because I  _ had  _ to. Because planning and controlling every aspect of my life was the only way for me to feel some sense of safety. I didn’t let myself relax because I had this irrational fear that something might happen if I did. I have never felt safe enough to truly let go, until Lamb. With you, I could do that during sex, sometimes, when I let you dominate me, but that was all. It already felt amazing, but it was momentarily. But with Lamb… it started in bed, and it spread to my life in general as I learnt to trust him and he showed me times and times again that he was looking out for me. If I let him control certain things, it’s because I feel safe enough to let go of my control, and because obeying his orders is gratifying for me. He takes care of me, which is priceless to me, and I try to give that back by being good to him. If he tells me to do something, and it’s something I’m okay with doing, I do it, because I like pleasing him, but I’m not forced to do anything. We have a set of rules, that we negotiated and both agreed on, Lamb knows what he can and can’t ask of me. I’m not only  _ allowed  _ to have limits, but they’re  _ necessary _ . Communicating, telling each other what we want but also what we’re absolutely not okay with, it’s a crucial part of our relationship. Before we  _ really  _ started exploring different things in bed, we talked about them. He told me what he would be interested in, and I said if I wanted to try it or not. If I said no, he simply didn’t do it. When we extended this dynamic to certain aspects of our daily life, it was the same thing. The thing you have to keep in mind but that you don’t seem to understand is that I  _ want  _ everything Lamb and I do. It’s all consensual. Consent is the most important thing when it comes to BDSM, and it’s consent that makes it different from abuse. Lamb would never do something I don’t want, not consciously at least because sometimes even  _ I _ don’t know one of my limits until I’m confronted with something that triggers me or that I simply don’t like. Besides, I have safewords. I’ve had to use them, sometimes, and whenever I did, he stopped immediately. He respects me, Simon. You have nothing to be worried about.”

Well. That’s a lot.

But Baz  _ does  _ sound sincere. His voice is sure. 

“So when he does those things to you… you’re okay with it because you feel safe with him?”

“No, that’s not it. He doesn’t do things  _ to  _ me, Simon. We do things  _ together _ . Even if he’s physically the only one doing something, it’s still something he does  _ with  _ me. I’m not just “okay with it”, I want it. When  _ you _ tied me up or hit me or choked me, it was because you knew I wanted it. With Lamb, it’s the exact same thing, even if it gets more intense because we’re both into things that would have been too much for you.”

I’d rather not think about what that may mean.

“So the fact that he has power over you, it’s not bad.”

“No. Besides, I’m not completely powerless. I have my safewords, and Lamb is always focusing on  _ me.  _ What I want and need. My comfort. I think that the reason why you don’t understand is because you don’t see it the right way. You don’t have the right perspective. You think that  _ he  _ controls me, that  _ he  _ does things to me. The truth is,  _ I  _ submit to Lamb, and in exchange, I trust him to take care of me. That’s what it’s about. It’s actually a big responsibility for him. Once again, think of when we were together. That time when you blindfolded me and I had a panic attack, how did you feel?”

My stomach drops just at the memory of it. 

“I felt guilty. I was angry at myself. I felt like I had let you down because you were in that state because of something I had done, and I felt awful for not noticing sooner.”

Oh.

Is that what Baz means when he says that Baz submitting to him is a responsibility for Lamb? Does Lamb feel that way when Baz uses his safeword?

“Are you starting to understand?” Baz asks, and I can hear his irritating, smug smile in his voice.

“Yeah.”

“Good. I  _ really  _ want you to understand that what Lamb does is taking care of me. I’m going to share some of the rules he gives me. Those he gives me when I go out on my own, for instance. You already know one of them, he tells me when to come home. But he also allows me to stay out longer, if I ask, unless he thinks it wouldn’t be safe for me. As he told you, he does so so that he can react accordingly in case I’m not home in time. The other rules are the following ; I can’t flirt with, kiss, fuck,  _ whatever _ , someone else without his permission. I suppose you can understand this rule.” Because I’m jealous, I know that’s what he means. “I can’t go on my knees for someone else, because it’s an act of submission and he doesn’t want me to submit to someone else, which is the only rule that could be considered selfish. I’m not allowed to drink, or take any kind of drugs, or bite a human. This rule has been decided for my safety, because when he isn’t here to look out for me, he wants me to have a clear head and be in control of myself. I’m also not allowed to drink in general, because I’ve told him that I had problems with alcohol in the past. The last rule is that I have to call him if I need him. Considering all of this, do you still think he controls me, and even if you do, do you truly think it’s a bad thing?”

No.

It makes sense.

Those rules, I mean.

I hate to admit it, but they make sense.

“Yeah, alright, I see your point. You don’t have rules weirder than that?”

“No. Most of the rules I have are when we’re playing and those don’t concern you.”

I hum. “Okay. But Baz… that collar thing…?” I ask, because fuck, that still weirds me out. 

Especially since I saw that one picture on Wikipedia.

He sighs, but it’s the kind of sighs I used to hear when I did something stupid but that he thought was endearing, not something that annoyed him. 

“Lamb told you what it was. There’s not much more to say, except that I should specify  _ I’m  _ the one who asked for it in the first place.”

“You did?” I ask, surprised.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to. I can’t give you a better explanation. I like being able to tug on it and have this physical reminder that Lamb is my Dom and that he’s here for me. It makes me feel special and cared for.”

That doesn’t seem too bad…

Well, I feel a burning jealousy consuming me at the thought that Baz enjoys feeling owned by  _ Lamb _ , but it doesn’t seem like a bad thing  _ for him _ . 

“Okay… So you’re  _ not  _ being abused?”

It’s a stupid question. I know it is. I just need to hear him say it.

He seems to understand that because he doesn’t sneer or sound patronizing when he answers.

“I’m not being abused. I’m quite happy with my life, actually. I would be happier if you could be part of it, though,” he says, making my heart flutter. He still wants me in his life. I haven’t  _ completely  _ fucked up. “However, considering how things have been every time we  _ saw  _ each other since we broke up, I think we should avoid being in the same room,” he says with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t mind chatting with you, though. You have my number, right? We could text. That seems to be a good start.”

**…**

**Baz**

A new start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simon has reached a level of kinkshaming higher than that of Malcolm when he heard Baz ask Simon to choke him and that’s not very sexy of him😔


	31. Chapter Thirty One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter today because I was productive ^^
> 
> when there’s texting, Simon is in bold and Baz in italics

**Baz**

When I pick up my phone, I see a dozen messages from Snow. Aleister Crowley. 

[5:21 pm] : **baz**

[5:21 pm] : **basil**

[5:22 pm] : **basilton**

[5:25p m] : **baaaaaaz**

[5:29 pm] : **T Y R A N N U S**

[5:36 pm] : **BAZ COME ON**

[5:40 pm] : **B**

[5:40 pm] : **A**

[5:40 pm] : **Z**

[5:42 pm] : **baz** 🥺🥺🥺🥺

[5:47 pm] : **baz answer me** 🥺🥺

[5:49 pm] : **why are you ignoring me** 🥺🥺

[5:57 pm] : **come on mate, i just want to know how your session with vanessa went**

[5:59 pm] : **also, how are you? how are you REALLY, don’t just say fine basilton. you had to talk about… you know. how do you feel about that?**

The messages make me smile, though. He’s annoying but fuck, he’s adorable. 

I quickly type an answer.

[6:11 pm] : _I like having time to myself to unwind after talking to her. Therapy helps in the long run but the sessions themselves always make me feel exhausted and drained._

[6:12 pm] : **oh. ok. sorry. i was just worried**

[6:12 pm] : _I know_.

[6:12 pm] : **are you going to tell me how it went or do you not want to talk about it?**

[6:14 pm] : _It was… difficult. I don’t like to drag things on, so I just let out everything I needed to let out. It was painful and even if I tried to distract myself after the session to feel less upset, I’m still not really okay right now. But it’s gonna be fine. Lamb said he was going to order Chinese and we’re gonna watch a movie and I’m sure if I ask he’ll play piano for me so I should be able to relax more this evening._

I’m always a little unsure when I talk about Lamb to Snow, but he doesn’t seem too annoyed by it. We’ve only been chatting for two weeks but he understands that I _live_ with Lamb and that I’m _dating_ him which obviously means he’s an important part of my life and I am bound to bring him up sometimes.

[6:14 pm] : **i’m glad he’s here for you**

My eyebrows shoot up when I read the message. I definitely was _not_ expecting that from Snow.

[6:15 pm] : _Do you really mean that?_

Yes, I’m an arsehole who just _has_ to ruin nice things, I’m well aware. But Snow’s comment has left me too dumbfounded not to say anything about it.

Last time I checked, he hated the very fact that Lamb was part of my life, let alone the fact that he was the one taking care of me. 

[6:15 pm] : **yeah**

[6:15 pm] : **to be honest i’ve been talking to niall about the two of you, lamb and you i mean, and he said that lamb was good for you and i have to admit that when you talk about him and stuff it always looks like he’s taking good care of you and i’m glad that you get to have that. you deserve it**

[6:16 pm] : **i know i was a terrible boyfriend, it makes me happy for you that you found someone better**

Crowley, can’t he have pity on me? I don’t need any more strong emotions today, not after telling my therapist all about… Halloween night. 

But he’s Simon Snow. What would his purpose in my life be if he didn’t wreck havoc in it. 

[6:19 pm] _First of all, you were not a terrible boyfriend. You were a complete trainwreck of a man, that’s different. I know you never meant to treat me any way other than well, but sometimes you just couldn’t do it. Lamb isn’t better than you. You were not better than him. It’s different. The two of you are so different. You took care of me too. Remember the night after I talked to Mrs Bunce about Roman? When you let me sleep on your shoulder in the car and made me that lasagna that you let burn? You took care of me well too, Simon, when you really put your mind to it. But it’s true, Lamb takes care of me well too, and it makes me happy that you’re not angry about that or that you don’t resent me for it anymore._

This is not the kind of conversation we should have over text, it’s too important, too vulnerable, but at the same time, I feel like text is the best way to do this. We can actually _think_ about what we’re going to say. Reread what we wrote, modify things, while with a face to face conversation… when the words are out, they’re out, and there’s no way to change them or unsay them.

[6:21 pm] : **i was never angry that he took care of you**

[6:23 pm] : _Simon. Yes you were. You tried to convince yourself you were not because you thought it would make you a horrible person to be mad that I’m happy with Lamb, but you were. Because you wished it was you instead of him. You’re jealous, Si. I think we’re both aware of it. Maybe you’re not as much now as you used to be, which I’m proud of you for if you’ve made efforts to work on it, but you’re still a jealous person._

I didn’t realize how much when we were together, even if there were definitely signs, but after seeing how he was around Lamb and I… it’s pretty obvious that Simon _is_ jealous. 

[6:24 pm] : _I’m not blaming you, though. I’m a jealous person too. It killed me to see you with Wellbelove back in school, and when I first heard about Olivia when I was still pining so hard over you, it drove me insane._

[6:24 pm] : **oooh so you were jealous of my girlfriends, pitch?😏**

I shake my head. He’s a moron.

[6:24 pm] : _Shut it, Snow._

[6:25 pm] : **don’t call me snow😡**

[6:25 pm] : _I can call you whatever I want. Snow._

[6:25 pm] : **okay then, TYRANNUS.**

I chuckle. Crowley, I missed having this with him. The playfulness. Having conversations that don’t make me feel terrible about myself. I’m so glad this is what we’ve been able to have in the past few days.

The only problem is that it seems to have rekindled the flame of my love for him, that never truly stopped burning but that had been muffled for a moment now. 

[6:26 pm] : _I’m blocking your number._

[6:26 pm] : **see if i care 😙**

Oh he wants to play that game?

I’m not _actually_ going to block him, but if he sends anything, I’m not going to answer. Then I’ll _see if he cares._

Smirking at that thought, I toss my phone on the bed before getting out of it and leaving the room. 

**…**

**Simon**

Fuck did that bastard really block me? He hasn’t answered in thirty minutes.

That’s _typical_ Baz Pitch. Of course he would block me to prove a point.

God, I fucking hate him, I think, a smile spreading on my face.

**…**

**Baz**

“Still colouring those poor lovers?”

Lamb’s voice startles me. The more time I spend with him, the more I understand why Snow was so annoyed by me “creeping up on him”. It’s insufferable.

I glance at him quickly, giving him a weak smile, before looking back at my thigh. 

Yes, I _am_ still colouring those “poor lovers”.

“Psyche and Eros,” I correct him mechanically as he takes a seat next to me. 

It makes the felt pens I was not currently using roll away, until one of them touches his own thigh. 

“I know.”

Of course he knows, I’ve told him who they were a million times, but apparently that doesn’t mean he’s remembered their names.

They’re not _that_ difficult though, Eros and Psyche.

There was a time in my adolescence when I devoured books after books about greek mythology, and their myth was one of my favourites -along with the myth of Icarus and his fall, for obvious reasons ; I was in love with the sun too. There’s this statue of them that I happen to find beautiful, so I got it tattooed on my thigh. Sometimes when I’m a little on edge I like to colour it. It’s relaxing. I have to scrub quite a lot to completely make the ink go, but well, there are worse things I could be doing to my thighs.

The scars are a pain in my arse when I’m colouring. They get in the way. 

“I just ordered our food,” Lamb tells me as he collects the felt pen, giving all of them back, except one, that he makes spin. “You should go clean up before you stain your skin.”

“But I’m having fun,” I whine, giving him my best puppy eyes.

He smiles and pat my other thigh.

“You’ll have your fun later baby. Go take a shower.”

I let out another plaintive sound, though I’m really not that annoyed about Lamb asking me to take a shower, but you know, you have to be dramatic about things sometimes, it makes life funnier. 

I put my felt pens on the coffee table before I stand, and then I offer Lamb my hand.

“Come with me?” I ask with my best attempt at a playful smile.

In truth, my heart is beating a little fast in my chest.

We haven’t done anything past kissing since Halloween, and if Lamb’s fingers have accidentally touched the skin of the small of my back as he held or hugged me because my shirt had ridden up, he hasn’t properly touched me, skin on skin, since then either.

And of course, there have been no touches under the belt at all, even over my clothes.

So this is a little terrifying, but I know I want it. Lamb’s touch doesn’t hurt. Lamb’s touch isn’t bad. Lamb’s touch is only rough when I want it to be. Lamb’s touch stops if I want it to. 

Lamb’s touch is nothing like that man’s touch, but the longer I remain without it, the more blurry the line between the two in my head will become. 

Lamb gives me an hesitant look. “Baz… I’m not sure this is wise.”

“I want to,” I say, reaching out to take his hand in mine. I pull him up, and give him another of those teasing smiles, more confident this time. “Come on, don’t say you don’t want to as well. We’ve never gone this long without sex. You must want me a little bit.”

At least I _hope_ he does. 

“The problem is not whether or not I want you,” he says, and he’s the one pulling me closer this time. He holds me at the waist with his free hand. “Of course I want you, love. But I don’t want you to rush anything.”

“I don’t want to fuck now, in case that’s what you thought,” I specify. I’m bold, but not _that_ bold. 

“I know. That’s not what I thought you wanted. I still stand by what I said. I don’t care how long we don’t have sex for. I don’t care if we go weeks before you’re comfortable with me touching you.”

“You’re touching me,” I comment, unhelpfully.

He gives me a tender smile, making his hand on my waist softer, caressing. “You know that’s not what I mean. Anyway. About that shower. I’m not convinced it’s not too soon. It’s okay to take your time, Baz. Take all the time you need.” He leans in to whisper in my ear. “As sexy as you are, I’m perfectly fine only seeing and touching your gorgeous body in my dreams.”

All the blood I have in me rushes to my cheeks, at the same time as I feel relief ease some of a tension I didn’t even notice I had in my shoulders.

Lamb still wants me. He still thinks I’m sexy, even if I’ve been made dirty by someone else’s touch.

_You’re not dirty, Baz._

The voices ringing in my head sound like Snow’s and my therapist’s. 

“Tss, stop flirting,” I tell him as I pull back. I’m sure he can see a pink tint on my cheeks. “If my body is so gorgeous, come and admire it,” I tell him as I turn around, tugging on his hand.

I’m afraid he might let go of mine and stay here.

He doesn’t.

**…**

“Can you take clothes for us?” I ask as I sit on the bed. I take my phone. I have 5 messages from Snow. A smirk on my lips, I explain, “I have texts to answer.”

“You’re always exploiting me,” Lamb jokes.

I huff out a laugh, before focusing on my phone.

[6:37 pm] **baz have you really blocked me?**

[6:41 pm] **baz omg i was joking**

[6:49 pm] **baz that’s not cool🥺**

[6:53 pm] **i’m sorry i lied i care if you block me**

[7:01 pm] **baaaaz come back i miss you😔**

I shake my head, chucking. He’s such a child.

[7:18 pm] _So needy._

[7:18 pm] **BAZ!!! YOU’RE BACK!!! I MISSED YOU!! :D**

Wow, I barely hit “send” and I already got a reply. He must have been waiting for me to text back.

It makes a warm feeling grow inside my chest.

“What is Simon saying?” Lamb asks as he walks up to me, two pairs of tracksuits trousers, two long-sleeved tee, and underwear folded over one of his arms.

“How do you know it’s Simon?”

“You have that silly smile you only get when you’re texting him,” Lamb answers, with a teasing smile on his own lips.

“I don’t have a silly smile,” I groan. “Make yourself useful and get inside the shower, I’m coming.”

“Without me?” he asks, with a gleam in his eyes that makes me roll mine.

Him and his stupid sexual jokes.

“ _Hush._ Get in the shower Lamb, for God’s sake.”

I swear like a Normal. A true shame, I know. Such an insult to my family name.

It’s all Lamb’s fault. 

I feel his fingers on my chin, and his gaze on me, which makes me look up without even thinking about it. 

He drags his knuckles lightly along my jaw. “So demanding… Is that a way to talk to me, brat?”

I blush again.

“Just go to the bathroom. I simply have to tell Simon I’m busy, and then I’m joining you.”

He smiles, amused, as he yanks my hair a little. Not enough to hurt, barely enough to move my head. It makes me want more. It makes me want him to pull my hair, holding my head in my place as he fucks my mouth hard and fast, making me choke on his cock. 

I want this. I want this and more, so much more.

But I know I can take it yet. 

For now…

For now light touches under hot water seem like a difficult enough obstacle to overcome. 

**…**

I make quick work of texting Snow back, anticipation buzzing under my skin at the thought of getting naked with Lamb, of feeling his naked body against mine.

I don’t know if it’s the good or the bad kind of anticipation, but I know that I don’t want to chicken out. 

[7:21 pm] : _I was back, but I have to leave again. Some of us have things to do, Snow, I don’t only dedicate my time to you._

[7:21 pm] : **you should😔**

He’s a nightmare. 

**…**

As I walk in the bathroom, I see that Lamb has done exactly what I told him to. His clothes have been discarded on the floor, and he’s standing under the showerhead, water darkening his hair and reddening his skin. 

I let myself shamelessly ogle him.

Who could blame me, honestly. He’s so fucking hot.

Tall, with strong arms and thighs but a softer stomach. It’s ideal, really. This balance of hard muscle and soft flesh. It’s just like him. 

“Is the view nice enough for you?” he asks with a cocky smile.

I give his body one last, slow look, from his feet to his face, and I meet his gaze. Fire is burning in his eyes.

“Quite,” I answer, as I take the hem of my shirt in my hands.

Lamb has seen me naked, since it happened. He saw me naked _on the night_ it happened. So this part isn’t that scary.

I let my shirt down on the floor.

“You know, Lamb,” I tell him as I slip my fingers under the waistband of my pants -I don’t have trousers on, since I took them off to draw on my thigh. “Maybe you’re satisfied only seeing and touching me in your dreams, but _my_ hands are aching to be on you in real life.”

His pupils go a little wide. Good.

I like when he wants me. I like when he wants _my touch_. I’m almost always the one begging for it. It feels good to be reminded that I’m not the only one craving to be touched. That Lamb, as controlled as he is and as well as he always hides it, burns for me as much as I burn for him. 

“You’re free to touch me all you want, love,” he says, with that hot, seductive voice that turns my legs into jelly.

I pull my pants down quickly, not interested in teasing anymore, and revel in the appreciative way Lamb looks at me as I walk towards the shower.

_He still wants me, he still wants me, he still wants me._

He steps aside to give me space, so that I can be under the water without being pressed against him. 

“Can I touch you?” I ask, because it seems easier to start by touching him before letting him touch me.

“Yes, love, of course,” he says softly.

I gesture to him to step closer, so that we’re both under the water, and I put both hands on his shoulders.

How many times did I hold him at this exact same place, digging my nails in his flesh and I gasped and begged for him. 

My hands slide down his chest, tracing the curves of a body I already know by heart. This is easy. This feels good. 

But it isn’t enough.

“That’s what we did with Simon, you know. After… The first time. He didn’t want to touch me because he was scared to make me feel uncomfortable. I dragged him inside my shower, and he had no more choice but to touch me. I was already naked, he got the message that it was alright to put his hands on me. Since getting in a shower worked the first time, I thought it might work again the second time,” I say, a sad tone to my voice.

**…**

**Lamb**

There shouldn’t be a second time.

There shouldn’t ever have been a first time.

It makes me so _fucking_ angry that Baz went through this. 

My strong, brave Baz.

**…**

**Baz**

“Is it? Working, I mean?”

This is it, right?

I take a breath a bit deeper than the others, then look at Lamb determinately. 

“The only way to know is if you touch me…”

I use the fact that my hands have slided on his back to push him closer. 

Closer, not too close.

Not so close that every inch of our bodies are touching.

“Baz, remind me what your safewords are,” he tells me, still not moving his hands.

The request makes my heart flutter. He’s so caring. 

“Yellow if I want to slow down. Red if I want to stop.”

A smile spreads on his lips. “Good boy,” he tells me as he finally, _finally_ moves.

His hands go on my hips, which is both exactly where I wanted them to go, and the place where I was the most scared about feeling them on, save for my arse. 

That’s where _he_ held me. 

Admittedly, it was the other way around. He was behind me, of course, while Lamb is in front on me.

But still.

That was the scariest part, when it comes to chaste touches, and it knocks the wind out of me.

I close my eyes, and Lamb’s voice comes to my ears immediately.

“Colour, love.”

“Green.”

It’s green. I’m alright. I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to slow down.

_I’m alright._

“Hug me,” I ask, breathless. “Please, Lamb, please hug me.”

He does.

His arms close around me, gently, tenderly, and I open my eyes. We’re touching now, completely.

I feared it might make me recoil. That I might feel sick. 

But I don’t.

Because it’s Lamb. I know it’s Lamb. And Lamb is _safe._

He kisses my cheek, because he knows I never had a problem with my face being touched.

“I love you, Baz,” he whispers in my ear. He hasn’t said it often, and it makes me melt each time. “You’re so strong, I’m proud of you sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are always nice ^^


	32. Chapter Thirty Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the texting parts :  
> Simon is in bold  
> Baz in italics  
> Niall in bold and italics

**Baz**

I wake up to texts from Simon. Of course. He likes texting me throughout the day, and his day starts _much_ earlier than mine.

In my defense, I also go to bed much later than he does.

[7:41 am] : **i hate that bloody cat. he jumped on the counter and knocked my mug THAT WAS FULL OF BOILING HOT COFFEE**

Half of the messages I get from Snow are about his “bloody cat”. It’s adorable how much he loves talking about his pet. 

He even sends me pictures sometimes, which I’m not mad at because I must admit, Ollie is cute. 

I keep reading the multitude of texts Snow sent, expecting one about the weather. He’s been complaining about the weather every day since the 1st of December. That’s a much less pleasant kind of advent calendar than the chocolate ones I had as a child. 

[8:12 am] : **it’s so fucking cold i wanna die**

[8:12 am] : **why did i have to be born in this fucking country**

[8:13 am] : **my fingers are almost too cold to type i hate it**

[8:13 am] : **baz can you use your rich kid money to buy me a one way ticket to australia, it’s summer there, i want summer weather**

[8:13 am] : **how do YOU even survive in the winter??**

I knew it.

He’s so predictable. 

He seems _particularly_ angry at the weather today, though. Either having to clean his cat’s mess put him in a bad mood, or it’s colder than usual.

I’m not about to go outside just to verify that.

I look down again. Crowley, he’s sent a lot of things this morning. 

[10:35 am] : **ur probably still sleeping so u wont answer bc ur lazy and useless but im thinking about u**

[10:36 am] : **someone bought pride and prejudice at the shop**

[10:36 am] : **they didnt understand why i was smiling like an idiot**

I’m smiling like an idiot too, a warm feeling in my chest.

Pride and Prejudice makes him think of me. I guess that’s a good thing. It always makes me think of him too. I couldn’t bear to reread the book or rewatch the movies for months and months after the break up. It reminded me of Snow so much, it made me sick. 

[11:03 am] : _Your grammar is getting more and more atrocious. What would it cost you to capitalize the beginning of your sentences and your Is, and to use apostrophes all the time?_

[11:03 am] : _As for Australia, seeing how much you complain about the heat in summer here, I don’t think you would feel any better there._

[11:03 am] _Oh, and give Ollie my compliments for being a pain in your arse so early in the morning. He’s doing a great job._

I can’t even get out of bed before my phone lights up with a message from him. 

[11:04 am] : **1) fuck off**

**2) fuck off**

**3) fuck off**

[11:04 am] : _Eloquent. Don’t you have work to do?_

[11:04 am] : **nope. tuesdays are usually quiet, and we get deliveries and do inventory and all that boring stuff at the end of the week🤷 so i’m completely free to talk to you😁**

I have to note the effort to write “i’m” instead of “im”. We’re still not completely there, but it’s better. I don’t think I’ll ever get an “I’m”, though. Snow seems to have something against capital letters.

[11:05 am] : _Who says I’m free to talk to you?_

I can almost see him roll his eyes when he gets the message. 

[11:05 am] : **you’re such a prick. you just woke up. what would you do if you weren’t talking to me?**

Nothing.

I could be watching something, or writing my book, but talking to Snow is more entertaining and I write better in the evening. Since I don’t go to school anymore and am therefore not forced to _think_ barely an hour after waking up, my brain takes its sweet time to be completely functional in the morning.

[11:05 am] : _Shag_ _my boyfriend._

Snow can take jokes about Lamb now. It seems that he has worked on his jealousy, though I think that the fact that he knows I would not, in fact, be shagging my boyfriend if I weren’t talking to him must help.

It’s not that I keep Snow updated on my sex life, not exactly, but I have some fears that I feel more comfortable sharing with him than with Niall. Talking about sex lightly with Niall, joking about it, is alright. Telling him I’m afraid of getting too lost in my head and convincing myself the cock I feel inside me next time my boyfriend fucks me is that of the man who raped me is an entirely different story. 

But that’s something I can tell Snow. Because he knows. Because he’s been there. Because he remembers the empty, haunted look in my eyes when he called me “darling”.

It may be a strange thing to talk to my ex with, but my relationship with Snow has always been a mess. 

[11:06 am] : **lol, sure thing mate**

[11:07 am] : **i didn’t ask before because i didn’t want to upset you if it was a sensitive topic, but has he reopened his club yet?**

[11:08 am] : _No, he’s giving himself until January to decide if he even reopens at all or not. Owning the club is only one of many jobs he’s done in his life, and he doesn’t need to work, so he’s wondering whether or not he really wants to reopen, or if he’d rather do something else, or not to anything at all for a while. I think he’s quite enjoying being able to be home at night and not having to worry about the club._

When he closed, I was convinced he would reopen, now I’m not so sure. He’s been more relaxed since he closed the club. Even if he was worried sick about me, he still seemed more tranquil than he was before. Now he’s not so worried about me anymore, and he’s thriving. 

He’s been playing his piano more often, which surprised me at first, because I had no idea the piano was anything more than decoration until a few days after Halloween. We also order less food because he’s taken to cooking most of our meals

I wouldn’t mind if he didn’t reopen the club. I’m quite enjoying the way our life is, now, even if I fell bad for his employees, though I know most of them have already found a new job to replace this one already. 

[11:09 am] : **well that’s nice for you, right? he has more time to be with you**

[11:09 am] : _Yes. Now go back to work Snow, I have breakfast to take, I have to stop humouring you._

[11:10 am] ; **ugh don’t talk about food you fucker i’m starving and my lunch break only starts at 12:30. i think i’m going to die**

[11:10 am] : _Then die._

**…**

**Simon**

Only fifteen minutes later, I receive a message from Baz. A picture, to be specific.

A picture of his _breakfast_. Pancakes that must be homemade and some fruit on the side. 

My stomach growls. 

Fuck I hate him. 

[11:28 am] : **BASILTON THAT’S JUST CRUEL I’M HUNGRY**

**…**

**Baz**

[11:29 am] : _They’re delicious. Lamb puts chocolate on them it tastes amazing_

[11:29 am] : **chocolate omg fuck you😩😩😩**

“Having fun?” Lamb asks as he steals a piece of banana from my bowl. 

I let go of my phone long enough to slap his hand away. “Hands off my food. Yes, I’m having fun.” I look up. “Are there more of those pancakes you made or have you devoured them all.”

“There are more, why? You haven’t even eaten yours yet,” he answers, tilting his chin to point at my plate, that’s still almost full.

“It’s not for me, it’s for Simon. We’ve been texting a lot and I’m really enjoying this new friendship we’ve been able to build. I think I’m ready to see him again, but I’d rather take it slow. I thought visiting him during his lunch break would be a good idea. I can’t stay too long if he has to go back to work, you know?”

At first, Lamb’s eyebrows are furrowed, and then he gives me a teasing smile.

“So you’re abandoning me? Who am I supposed to have lunch with if you’re not here?” he says, making himself sound extremely pained about it.

I pat his shoulder, sympathetic.

“I’m sure you can survive having one meal alone.”

**…**

[11:36 am] : _Niall, I need help_

[11:36 am] : _What’s the address of that bookshop Snow works at?_

[11:39 am] : **_why do you want to know that?_ **

[11:39 am] : _I want to bring him lunch like the good little housewife I am, of course. The address, Niall._

[11:39 am] : **_I’m looking for it, just wait, you arsehole. jokes aside, are you on your way to be Simon’s good little housewife again?_ **

[11:40 am] : _No. For now I want his friendship. We’re working on that well enough, but our friendship is still fragile, because we haven’t seen each other since Halloween. If I let my or his feelings get in the way, it’ll fail again and I can’t bear to see it fail again._

[11:41 am] : **_Baz, you’re both still in love with each other, your feelings are already getting in the way_ **

[11:42 am] : _Not really, actually. Simon isn’t constantly reminding me that he loves me, and he does seem to be sincere when he says he’s okay with friendship. I know that he’s okay with being friends FOR NOW, but so am I. We’re on the same wavelength. That’s what matters. If Snow wanted romance while I still wanted friendship or vice versa, it would be a problem but it’s not the case. So no, our feelings aren’t getting in the way already. Not in a bad way, at least._

[11:45 am] **_well, as long as you’re both okay with it. here’s the address by the way_ **

**…**

I have my _silly smile_ on my face all the way to Snow’s workplace, and a paper lunch bag in my hand. 

I check my watch. It’s 12:28 when I reach the bookshop. I can see Snow, sitting behind the register, tapping his fingers on it and glancing at a clock. He’s gonna be pissed thinking he gets a customer when he’s about to close for his break.

I push the door open, not giving myself time to hesitate. 

Snow’s head turns in my direction, a slight frown on his face -I knew he wouldn’t like someone coming in now- before it lights up when his eyes fall on me.

“Baz!” he exclaims excitedly. “What are you doing here?”

“Finding my old nemesis to murder like I always plotted to,” I answer, deadpan. Then, I jiggle the bag in my hand to bring Snow’s attention on it. “Why do you think I came?”

His eyes go wider than when he saw me. 

I scoff. I should know Snow’s love for food will always be greater than whatever love he has for me. 

“Did you bring me food?” he asks, looking back and forth between my face and the bag. 

“I did. You were right, it was cruel of me to show me my breakfast like that. I thought I’d make up for it by having lunch with you. I hope you didn’t have anything planned.”

I couldn’t exactly ask beforehand. It would have ruined the surprise and I wouldn’t see such a bright smile on his face right now, which would be a true shame. 

“No,” he says, shaking his head at the same time. “Nothing planned. I was just going to eat leftover pasta while watching youtube videos. Being with you definitely seems like a better idea.”

He sounds so cheerful. It makes my heart flutter. 

I knew he’d be glad to see me, but I didn’t think it would be that much. 

I give him a smile that I hope looks relaxed and not hysterical. I _feel_ hysterical. 

I’m with Simon Snow. I can hear him, see him, _touch_ him.

“Where should we go then?” I ask.

“Oh, uh, come to the back,” he says, as he waves at me to follow him.

I look around as I walk. It has this warm, cozy atmosphere that I love about little shops like this one. 

“You said it belonged to an old woman?” I ask as Snow takes a key out to unlock a door.

“Yeah. Well, it was when I talked to you about it,” he answers, opening the door. “But the reason why she wanted an employee was so that there would be someone to help her niece when she’d pass the shop down to her. So actually, I only work with and for Nancy.”

He turns the lights on, revealing a narrow room stacked with cardboard boxes and shelves of books. There’s also a small table in the centre of the room, with only two chairs around it and a few notebooks and pens on it. A lunch bag has been abandoned on the floor. It contains Snow’s leftover pasta, I assume. 

“Nancy? I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned that name.”

He shrugs. “Well, I don’t really talk about work with you, so…” He takes the notebooks and pens and put then on top of a box. “Here, you can sit.”

He indicated the chair closer to the door, and sat on the other. 

I sat too. 

Snow looks at me expectantly, and I roll my eyes at him as I reach inside the bag to take our lunches out.

“It’s nothing extravagant,” I tell him. “I didn’t have time to make anything better than sandwiches, I hope you don’t mind. It’s not exactly the idea thing to eat in December but I...”

“Baz.” I stop talking. “Sandwiches are great. Anything would be great. I don’t really care much about the food, to be honest,” he says, a blush on his cheeks. 

I give him a smirk, because I can’t let myself go soft on him. 

“Sorry, but I don’t buy that. We all know food is the greatest love of your life,” I say as I hand him his sandwiches. Then, I take the few pancakes left from this morning out of the bag too. “Look what I also brought.”

Since he’s a brute, he grabs them, almost ripping the aluminum Lamb wrapped them in. 

“Oh my god, is that the pancakes you ate for breakfast?” he asks as he unwraps them, discovering that it is indeed the pancakes I had for breakfast. “You’re the best.”

He has a huge grin on his face, like a child on Christmas day. 

I chuckle, the warm feeling in my chest that hasn’t left me since I arrived growing even more, the joy overwhelming me.

**…**

“You’re eating too?” Snow says, surprised, as he sees me take a bite of my own sandwich. 

“Yes, why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, you don’t really eat much, and you’ve had breakfast not so long ago, so I’m surprised.”

I can _hear_ the judgment in his _‘you don’t really eat much’_. I repress the urge to roll my eyes. It’s not my fault that I’m not hungry and that I don’t even need to eat that much. 

“Lamb blackmailed me into having lunch. He said I wasn’t allowed to bring you sandwiches if I didn’t make one for myself,” I answer, before biting the sandwich again.

Snow laughs softly. It makes me blush. 

He has such a beautiful laugh.

“I’m starting to like that bloke,” Simon says, still laughing a little.

“Because he blackmails me?” I answer, even though I obviously know that’s _not_ why.

“No, silly. Because he makes you take care of yourself.”

Yes. That’s what I told you from the beginning.

I’m glad that Simon is finally starting to see the good in my and Lamb’s relationship, though. I hated having him question it.

“Speaking of,” Snow continues. “When do you have to be home?”

He asks it calmly, not a hint of annoyance in his voice, and looking at me with no malice, like he genuinely wonders. 

It surprises me more than everything else that has happened since I arrived at the shop.

“I didn’t know when your lunch break ended, so I told him I’d text him when I leave.”

Simon nods, a smile tugging at his lips. “So you’re staying with me for my whole break?”

“Well, I don’t have anything better to do and you’re entertaining enough to be around. People go to zoos for a reason, you know.”

He loses his smile and kicks me under the table.

**…**

After we’re done eating, Simon decides we should go back to the main room, and that’s when I meet his colleague -well, boss I guess. Nancy.

She’s a young woman, probably only a few years older than us, red hair messily put up in what must have been intended to be a bun and a face full of freckles.

She’s moving books in the bookshelves, probably because customers messed the order of the books up, but she turns at us and give us a smile when she hears us come in. 

Her eyes are even bluer than Snow’s. I didn’t know it was even possible. 

“Hey! I don’t know you,” she says, looking at me as she heads towards Snow and I.

She offers me her hand, which I shake. “Hi, I’m Nancy.”

“Baz, nice to meet you.”

“Baz… who are you, Baz?” she asks.

She glances between Simon and I, curiosity in her eyes. 

“We’re friends. He was my roommate at school,” Snow explains, his cheeks red.

Crowley he’s a moron. She’s not going to believe him

if she looks like _that_ when he tells her we’re friends.

Not that I mind people thinking Snow and I are _more_ than friends. I just don’t want him to get in trouble. 

The most homophobic comments I got were almost all from the people whose looks would have led me to believe they were open-minded, not from rude old people -though I did get my share of those too. 

“Oh, you were roommates?”

It seems funny to her, but I don’t really understand why. 

What’s so hilarious about roommates? 

I don’t understand Normals. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they were roommates


	33. Chapter Thirty Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT CHAPTER!!!! 
> 
> I advise you skip this chapter if that’s not something you’re interested in reading

**Baz**

The flat is lit dimly and still smells faintly of Lamb’s soap. The cup in my hands has gone cold, its content swallowed long ago, but the soft music playing in the room warms me up better than hot tea could. 

I’m looking at Lamb with a tenderness in my eyes that would probably make him gag. He’s just so beautiful.

His body is very attractive, of course, and I still marvel at the sight of it sometimes, but it’s not just that. 

The features of his face are soft, so soft ; straight nose and almond eyes, a shade of blue or two too dark, plump lips and soft jaw. But he still can look cold, incredibly cold, when his eyes turn the colour of a deep ocean and his lips are curled up in a cruel, chilling smile. 

His hands are light on the piano, pressing on the keys just enough to get the right sound out of them. They can be so rough on me, pulling and hitting with just the right intensity to get the loudest sounds out of me. 

I like them, those hands. I miss feeling them on me as I pleasure him.

On me to pleasure _me_.

I put my cup down on the coffee table.

“Did I ever tell you you’re insanely attractive when you’re playing that piano of yours?”

His rhythm on the keys falters, my voice surprising him. He quickly starts playing perfectly again, glancing at me with one corner of his lips curled up. 

“I don’t think you did, no.”

I stand from the couch, walking towards him. 

He’s beautiful, and elegant too, even when he’s just wearing pyjamas and his hair is a little too flat because it’s still damp. 

“Shame. You really are.”

I stand behind him, gently laying my hands on either side of his jaw. There’s a bit of stubble there, he’s less meticulous about his shaving since he doesn’t have to look all proper every night for the club. It’s hot. I like feeling it against my chin when we’re kissing. I prefer the feeling of a clean shaven face, but this isn’t so bad. 

I lean down, kissing him just under his ear. “Don’t stop playing.”

He stops playing.

I know for _a fact_ it’s not that hard to obey such a simple order. 

He turns around on his seat until he’s facing me. My hands are still on his jaw, and he’s looking up at me. 

It feels wonderfully wrong. Him being the one who has to raise his head. Me being the one holding him between careful fingers. 

“What do you want, Baz?” he asks, with this serious, firm voice that makes me want to get on my knees. 

I don’t. I don’t think that’s what it’s about. He’s not asking me to give up control. He’s giving it to me. 

_What do you want._

“I want to try.”

“Try what?” he says, as if he didn’t know exactly _what._

He makes me spell it out. He always makes me spell it out. To be sure he isn’t misinterpreting anything. To be sure he does exactly what I want, and doesn’t push for more.

“To have sex. Not… I don’t want you to fuck me. Not yet. But it’s been weeks and wanking is starting to slowly drive me mad. I want… _with you_. I want to get off with you. I want to make you come.”

“Okay,” he says as he rests his hand on the side of my knee. “Before we do anything, I want to set a few things straight.”

“Yes, Sir,” I answer automatically, making my voice lower and leaning into the touch more.

Lamb shakes his head, disapprovingly. It doesn’t make me feel like I’ve been bad, though, because he’s looking at me with his eyes full of affection. “See, Baz, that’s exactly what I want to discuss. If you want to try having sex I’m okay with that. You know yourself enough to know what you’re ready for when it comes to this. When it comes to scenes, however, _I_ am going to make a decision. I’m not comfortable playing until I’m perfectly sure that you’re in the right headspace for that, which you aren’t at the moment. I don’t want you getting hurt, and that would inevitably happen if you submitted to me now. I’m not punishing you, it’s not because you have done something wrong. It’s not your fault that you aren’t in the right place for scenes, but it would be my fault if we did something anyway and you were triggered. I don’t want to cause you harm. So for now, forget all of your rules. And call me by my name. The only things we are keeping are your safewords. Do you understand?”

I nod, and then, because I don’t like this too serious mood he put us in -even if it was necessary for him to tell me this- I give him a smirk.

“So we’re going vanilla for a while?”

He huffs out a laugh, his hand on my knee moving and stroking me up my thigh. “Exactly. We’re going vanilla for a while.”

I look at him with amusement in my eyes as I say, counting on my fingers. “Are you going to only fuck me in missionary too? Give me a necklace with a heart pendant to replace my collar? Propose to me?”

I’m joking but if he tells me he’s taking my collar off I might cry. 

He slaps my thigh in retaliation. 

“Don’t become too cocky because I told you we were dropping the rules, brat,” he says, his hand slipping under my shirt. “I’m sure I can figure out ways to make you pay for your shitty behaviour other than by punishing you, alright?”

I answer with a smile. A _cocky_ smile.

He rolls his eyes, before starting to tickle my side, which makes me squirm. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” I say before my knees can get a chance to give out.

I hate tickles. You’d think that that thick vampire skin would make them bearable, but _no._

He does stop, stilling his hand and simply resting it on my waist, up my shirt. His thumb moves lightly on my skin. 

“Now, what do you want to do?”

I don’t have to think. I had an idea in mind when I walked up to him, and I’m still very much interested in bringing this thought to life. 

“Turn around, and start playing again,” is all I say.

He doesn’t question it, simply does as he’s told, probably curious to see where this is going, though he must have an idea.

There aren’t many things that can be done sexually when one of the parties is sitting at a piano, are there?

I wish he was wearing a button down, so that I could open it and get a view of his chest, but unfortunately he’s wearing a t-shirt and I don’t want the music to stop just for him to be able to take it off.

Instead, I step aside, getting down on my knees next to his leg. I nudge his knee playfully.

“Make room for me.”

He pushes his seat back as far as he can to still be able to reach the keys correctly, and I slip in the space between the piano and the seat, my head between his spread knees. There’s not much room, but it’s enough.

When I look up at him, I see that he’s glancing at me, his eyes dark. If he hadn’t understood what I wanted already, now I can hardly make it clearer. 

I put my hands on his thighs, feeling the soft silk and the strong muscle underneath it. I slide them up. And up. And up, until my thumbs are teasing his crotch. He isn’t soft anymore, thank Merlin, I’d be offended if he was still completely soft after seeing me kneeling between his legs, but he isn’t nearly as hard as I want him to be. 

So, I push his shirt up, peppering kisses along his waistband, occasionally licking and sucking. 

The music is still perfect. 

Soon enough, his hard cock is pressed against my cheek and I smile. It didn’t take too long.

I tuck my fingers under the waistband of his trousers, noticing, pleased, that he isn’t wearing underwear, and I pull them down. He lifts his arse long enough for me to completely tug them down, which I do slowly, uncovering the pale skin of his thighs, and _of course_ , his cock. It’s as pink as any part of his body ever gets, and it makes my mouth waters. 

The precome leaking from it is just _begging_ to be on my tongue. 

“Signals and safewords, Baz,” Lamb asks mechanically.

I snap my fingers once. “Yellow. Slow down.” I snap my fingers twice. “Red. Stop.”

“Good boy.”

The praise making me a little bolder, I lean in and kiss the tip of his cock.

This should be okay. All of it should be okay. Sucking cock is pretty much my favourite thing to do in bed and Lamb knows my limits and triggers. 

I lick along his shift, getting familiar with the taste of _that_ skin again after so long, and then I’m taking the tip inside my mouth, teasing his slit with my tongue.

There still isn’t a single wrong note. 

I take him a little deeper, slowly, excruciatingly slowly. If there’s one thing Lamb _doesn’t_ like, it’s being made to wait. When it’s just for the sake of teasing, though. He doesn’t mind taking it slow when I need it to be comfortable.

But right now, he can see the playful gleam in my eyes and the calculated way I move my tongue, so my slowness gets on his nerves. 

I pull back and his hips thrust up. 

Perfect.

I see him looking for a sign, paying more attention to whether or not I’m snapping my fingers.

I’m not.

Instead, I’m pulling back again, only to swallow him down at once immediately. 

He messes up a note, and a muffled moan reaches my ears.

I smile around his cock.

And _then_ things get serious.

I start bobbing my head, moving my tongue in ways I know feel right as I dig my nails in his thighs, scratching. I want to see pinkish lines on them when we go to bed. 

I close my eyes, which quickly enhances my other senses, making everything more intense.

The taste of his cock and precome on my tongue.

His strong muscles under my hands, straining as he keeps himself for thrusting up hard into my mouth.

The music, more and more messy, at my greatest pleasure -I never thought a piano badly played could sound so beautiful.

The groans and moans and swears and praise coming from Lamb’s lips. 

His laboured breathing, and the wet sounds my mouth makes on him. 

I take him deeper, relaxing my throat.

I wish I had a gag reflex. I don’t only want to choke on his cock when he fucks my mouth roughly, but it never works when I’m the one controlling the pace.

I open my eyes before I can start to feel uneasy, and I look up at him, as his cock is buried in my throat, as deep as it can get.

He’s stunning.

His eyes are shiny and his cheeks a little flushed. His lips are parted, and he’s struggling to keep his eyes on the piano.

The music sounds awful. It sounds amazing.

I moan around his cock, letting him feel all the vibrations, as my hand slides down to his balls, rolling them in my fingers. 

A moan louder than the others escapes his lips.

All of his fingers crash on the keys at the same time. 

My mouth fills with the bitter taste of his come.

He yanks me up by my hair and snog me like his life depends on it before I can swallow it.

It’s messy and sloppy, Lamb still panting and me struggling to catch my breath after breathing through my nose for so long.

It’s perfect. 

**…**

He pulls me up, more gently than when he kissed me, making me rest my forearms on his thighs for support.

He rests his forehead against mine.

His breath smells like his come and it nearly drives me mad.

“You’re so perfect…” he whispers, his chest heaving a little. “Thank you, love.”

I tilt my head to kiss his cheek.

“You haven’t come, have you?” he asks.

His eyes are closed, he’s still trying to collect himself. 

It’s glorious.

 _I_ did that to him.

He’s always so composed, and I took him apart with my tongue and lips.

“I haven’t.”

And I’m painfully hard.

I know wanking it away isn’t a solution, right now.

It’s not what I _want_.

What I want is terrifying, but that’s the point, right?

To do it, so that it’s not scary anymore.

“Is there something you want me to do about that?” Lamb asks, his hands rubbing circles between my shoulders soothingly. 

I nod. 

Before I can lose my nerve, I push myself up to bring my lips to his ear.

**…**

**Lamb**

I’m terrified. 

What he wants, it’s terrifying.

It must be for him too.

It must be _more_ for him.

I don’t think this could trigger him as much as if he had asked me to finger him or fuck him, but it’s still with apprehension that I lay him on our bed.

The sight of him spread out on the sheets, his eyes burning with desire, is comforting.

He wants this, he asked for it.

He has his safewords if he’s not alright.

It can’t go wrong.

I _won’t_ let it go wrong.

I crawl up his body to catch his lips.

His mouth still faintly tastes of me. It makes me moan. 

Then, I start trailing kisses along his jaw, then his neck, which I bite lightly. It’s enough to make him gasp.

A smile on them, I move my lips down to his chest, patting myself on the back for having had the brilliant idea of undressing him before we reached the room. Clothes are such an unnecessary inconvenience.

I slow down when I get to his hip bone, and I look up at him.

“Still alright baby?”

“Yes.”

“Great.”

So I kiss lower, the soft skin of his thigh.

I suck a love bite into it, because his unmarked skin is much too tempting and the sounds he makes as I do it are much too lovely.

He’s so vocal.

I love this about him.

I love so many things about him.

Once I’m satisfied with the hickeys I’ve given him, I focus back on the task at hand.

He’s so hard. So achingly, beautifully hard. 

“Look at you… Look at how hard you are just from sucking my cock… You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he breathes out. 

“I think you’ll enjoy this more, though. Are you ready?”

He nods enthusiastically, lust filling his eyes, and his voice when he says, “Yes, yes Lamb, I’m ready, please.”

I give him a smile as I cup the back of his knees. 

He lets out a heavy breath as I push them back, until he’s folded in two. 

“Hold your legs for me, will you sweetheart?”

I can barely take my hands off his knees that his are already there.

I chuckle. 

He’s so eager. 

It would be more practical to make him roll on his stomach to do this, but not having me in his direct vision is one of his limits, and even if he could technically crane his neck and see me, contrary to if he was blindfolded, I’d rather avoid any possibly triggering situation. This is delicate enough already.

Besides, he looks absolutely ravishing like this, his cock heavy on his stomach, staining it with precome, holding his legs up and open for me, entirely exposed.

“Can I start?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he says, pushing his hips down, needy and impatient.

He’s so perfect.

**…**

**Baz**

My heart is pounding in my chest, but I don’t think it’s from fear.

Moslty, it’s from how fucking _horny_ I am. I need to be touched, I need it so desperately, and I need it n…

A whine escapes my lips as I feel Lamb’s tongue across my arsehole.

Fuck, I thought he’d start with kissing.

No, I knew he’d do this.

He always knows what the best thing to do is.

He knows how much I _need_ it right now. He knows I can’t take too much teasing. That I just want to get off.

The tip of his tongue circles my rim, and I unconsciously push back, trying to get _more._

And I _do_ get more. He slips his tongue inside me and I shout his name, my hands clenching around the back of my knees. Thank Merlin I have something to hold on to.

I thought this would be scary. 

I thought my stupid thoughts would overwhelm me, that my even stupider brain wouldn’t let me enjoy feeling something on my arse.

But somehow, it does.

It does, and _fuck_ do I enjoy it.

I’m moaning like crazy, rocking my hips, probably smothering Lamb a little -if I am, he isn’t complaining. 

The movements of his tongue slow down a little, and I want to complain about it, but the sound of the bottle of lube being uncapped stops me.

Lube.

Is he… Is he going to…

The thought starts a fire in my stomach. 

His assault on my arse starts again, as I feel his hand close around my cock, wet and cold. Oh. 

So that’s what the lube was for. 

I can’t help but feel a little disappointed -which I shouldn’t when he’s taken such great care of me, but fuck, I thought he was going to…

“Finger me,” I gasp. 

Everything stops.

His hand is still on my cock, but he’s raised his head to look at me.

The spit that rolled on his chin could kill me. I want to lick it.

“What?” he says, clearly shocked.

“Finger me,” I repeat, confidently, not letting the doubt inside me win. I want it. I want it _so much_. “Please, please finger me. I need it, please.”

 _I miss feeling you inside me_ , I don’t say, because it’s too scary. Because if I can take fingers, I know even in my current state, rendered silly by lust and want, that I can’t take his cock.

“Are you sure?” he asks, worry in his voice.

 _I’m really touched by your concern, but please just fucking finger me_ _already._

I don’t say that either.

“Yes, yes, I’m ready, yes, please, green, yes, whatever you want to hear, please Lamb, please I need you.”

He uncaps the lube again and I moan so fucking loudly I have half a mind to press my hand against my mouth, to muffle a sound that has already been let out anyway.

“Lamb… please…”

I’m so hard, and I’m so horny, and we didn’t do any of this in so long, and, and…

He starts pumping my cock.

I moan again, deep in my throat, and when I feel his tongue return to my hole I feel tears pricking my eyes.

This is good already, so good, almost too good, but I want… I need…

I feel the tip of one lubed finger slide inside of me and I can’t hold my legs up anymore.

My hands fall back on the bed, as I somehow manage to put my legs on Lamb’s shoulder. 

“More, please, please Lamb, more.”

More he gives me.

His finger is entirely inside me, and all I feel is pleasure. 

Pleasure and tension and want and need.

But not fear. Not discomfort or sickness. 

My eyes are full of tears that have already started spilling out of them, but they’re not blurry enough for me not to see Lamb, and anyway, he’s talking to me.

I can’t make out all of the words he’s saying, but I can hear his voice, calming and _safe_ , and catch a few “ _so well_ ”s, “ _perfect_ ”s, “ _baby_ ”s, and “ _love_ ”s and it’s enough... it’s enough for me to be sure... to _know._

I _know_ it’s Lamb, not someone else. Lamb’s finger moving inside of me. Lamb’s finger curling just the right way, making me feel so good. 

It’s _him_.


	34. Chapter Thirty Four

**Simon**

Nancy looks at me with a frown on her face when she hears my phone buzzing longer than usual.

I glance at it, and see Baz’s name, which makes _me_ frown. He knows my schedule, he knows to text me, not call when I’m at work. If he’s doing it… it must be for a reason.

“Can I take this?” I ask Nancy. “I think it’s important.”

She nods. “Yes, sure. Go to the back, though.”

I don’t wait for her to say more to leave the room. 

I pick up as I open the door, before the call can end automatically. 

I raise my phone to my hear, shutting the door with a quick.

“Hello?”

“Simon thank Merlin.” His voice is breathy. I don’t like this _at all_. “I wasn’t sure you’d pick up. I know you’re at work I’m sorry but I… I just…” He takes a shaky breath. “I’m panicking,” he says with a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, I can tell,” I say, my voice tense. “Why? Did something happen?”

He’s at his parents right now, spending a week with his family for Christmas, what could possibly go wrong there? The biggest problem I can imagine is Malcolm saying something shitty, but it never made Baz react like this. Maybe Fiona is here and she’s the one who said something shitty, I know it would upset Baz if his aunt was angry with him or something, but that doesn’t seem likely. 

“It’s… please don’t get angry I just… I needed to talk to someone and you’re the only one… I… I can’t tell Daphne, my parents don’t know, neither do Dev and Niall…”

“Baz, get to the point,” I say, trying to sound firm but not aggressive. I don’t want to make him any more freaked out than he already is.

“Lamb and I were having sex...” he says. 

I try not to let the words get to me. 

Baz is with Lamb. It’s okay for Baz to have sex with Lamb. 

Besides, I know sex is challenging for him, since…

He isn’t telling me this to anger me, but because he’s lost and he _trusts_ me enough to tell me. The worst thing I could do would be to break this trust because it makes me jealous to think of Baz in bed with someone else. 

“And what? Did he do something you didn’t want? You have your safewords, right? Did you use them? Did he not listen?”

“No, no, no,” he answers immediately. I can imagine him shaking his head vigorously as he does. “He was great, it’s… _I’m_ the problem here.” 

His voice sounds so pained. I hate it. Why do I have to be at work, and why does he have to me miles and miles away in Hampshire?

“I’m sure you’re not, but go on. What happened, Baz?”

“You won’t get mad, right?”

“Baz, you already told me you were having sex, and it’s not the first time you talk to me about this kind of stuff. No, I won’t get mad.”

Not at him, at least. 

Never at him.

Not after my jealousy hurt him so much already, in the past.

I might get mad at Lamb if he did anything to _purposely_ hurt Baz, though.

His breathing is still too fast, so he tries to bring it back to a more normal rhythm before he can speak again. I wait patiently. If Nancy wants to yell at me for leaving for too long or withholding money from my paycheck, she can, I don’t give a fuck. 

After what feels like hours, he says, “So. I… Lamb and I… We’ve been able to do pretty much everything in bed except… I couldn’t let him fuck me. Fingers were fine but I… I didn’t feel comfortable with _really_ fucking. So we’d been doing that for a few weeks. You know, with fingers. And it was alright so I thought… I thought I was ready for more, that it would be fine too, but… but...”

But it wasn’t, I assume.

“You couldn’t do it?” I ask softly, seeing as he’s struggling to find his words.

“ _Yes._ Well, no, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t _fucking_ do it,” he spits out, frustration in his voice. “It all started _well_ and everything was _fine_ and it felt _good_ and Lamb was _amazing_ and I just… I just had to go and fucking ruin it.”

I hear the sound of something clattering on the floor. Probably an object he was holding and threw. 

By the sound of it, I assume he’s in the bathroom, so Lamb must be close enough, in the room. Maybe even right behind the door.

Why is Baz not talking to him?

“Wow, Baz, calm down mate it’s okay. You didn’t ruin anything.”

“Yes I did! Lamb… he… I haven’t let him fuck me in two months and now I made him believe he would _finally_ get to do it and instead I got a bloody panic attack when I felt his cock inside me! So fucking pathetic.”

“Hey, no, don’t say that. You’re not pathetic. Baz, you’ve been…” I clear my throat. I always get a lump in it when I think about Baz being…

“ _Raped_ ,” he says, his voice harsh, angry. The violence behind that single word freezes me to the bone. “Just bloody say it it’s not a bad word and I’m so fucking tired of Lamb and you sugarcoating it. I’ve been _raped_ , some gross man put his dick in my arse and since then I shiver when someone touches me from behind unexpectedly and I can’t bear to have _my boyfriend’s_ dick in my arse, apparently!” His breathing is getting irregular again, and his voice is wet. I can picture the tears in his eyes, maybe even falling down his cheeks, and it makes me wish I could teleport to the manor and _be_ with him. Really be with him, not just through a stupid phone. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to upset you,” I whisper weakly. 

I don’t know what to say to him. Words have never been my thing. 

“But Baz, why did you call me?” I ask instead, because I’m still puzzled about that. “I don’t mind, I’d be glad to help you, but I think you should be talking about this with Lamb, not me.”

He lets out a low, pained sound, like a hurt baby animal. It makes my heart clench.

“I can’t. I… He must already be so fed up with me, and I just… I _can’t_ look at him. He was fucking me and I started _crying_ Snow. By the time I got myself out of bed I was _sobbing_. I can’t… I’m such a fuck up,” he says, his voice getting weaker, full of pain. “I don’t want him to see just how fucked up I am and realize he doesn’t want to deal with my bullshit anymore, and I’m just… I’m so ashamed, Simon. I can’t even get fucked without having a panic attack, how ridiculous is that? And he wasn’t… we weren’t even in a position that could make me doubt it was him, I had my eyes on him and he was talking to me and I still couldn’t do it.”

There’s so much I want to say to him. I wish I could say it while holding him in my arms and playing with his hair the way he likes. 

“Baz. Listen to me, please.” I try to think about the things Vanessa told me when I still had sessions with her. The words she used. I want to do this well. “You have nothing to feel guilty or ashamed about. It’s… It’s trauma Baz. You’re traumatized. You can’t blame yourself for your reactions. _No one_ can blame you for your reactions. If Lamb has, he can go fuck himself.”

“He hasn’t,” Baz intervenes.

I didn’t think he had. I may not know that much about him but I know enough to know he wouldn’t make Baz feel guilty because he couldn’t have sex with him. 

“Good. Then why are _you_ blaming yourself? You didn’t do anything wrong. Do you think it would have been better if you’d hidden your panic attack and let him fuck you anyway?”

“ _No._ But it would have been better if I didn’t have a fucking panic attack in the first place,” he groans stubbornly. 

“You couldn’t know you’d have one. And it’s not something you should feel bad about, because it’s not something you can _control._ ”

“But it didn’t do that the first. After Roman, I mean. I didn’t have a problem with blowing you as long as you didn’t call me darling and I could see you. So _why_ can’t I have sex with Lamb now?”

The more he speaks, the more frustrated he sounds.

“The situations are different, and you don’t necessarily respond to trauma the same way all the time. What Roman did to you… It’s not the same thing as what happened on Halloween. And maybe the fact that it happened to you twice makes it harder for you to overcome now, and maybe your trauma from what Roman did is coming back up now. I don’t know shit about psychology, I can’t tell you why exactly it’s harder for you now, but it’s not something you should make yourself upset about. You know that it’s complicated, all the shit that goes on in your brain. You’ll make it even more complicated if you get frustrated. It’s triggering for you to have sex like that for now, then don’t do it.”

He snorts.

“Yeah, never fuck again, great fucking plan Snow. I _want_ to fuck. I just _can’t._ ”

I try to think of something. I feel like my brain is going to explode. I don’t usually think that hard about anything. It’s a fucking tragedy that it’s about Baz’s sex life with a bloke who isn’t me. 

“You said that… fingers were okay, right?” I eventually say, my cheeks burning. It’s so bloody embarrassing to talk about all of this, but I can’t let Baz down.

“Yeah. When he fingers me, it doesn’t feel… It’s not scary or overwhelming, not overwhelming in a bad way, at least. It’s not anything like how feeling his cock was.”

I hum. “Okay. So I was thinking… with all the shit Lamb and you get up to, maybe...” I clear my throat. I’m sure my face is redder than it has ever been. “He might own a dildo or two. Maybe you could… you know… try to fuck yourself on a fake cock, see if you’re comfortable with that, and if you are, you could let _Lamb_ fuck you with it until… until it might be okay for him to fuck you for real.”

I want to bury myself in a hole and never come out of it. This is possibly the most awkward conversation I’ve ever had, and half of the conversations I have are super awkward. 

It’s just kind of weird to be talking about the sex he may have with his boyfriend with my ex who I happen to be in love with, you know?

Baz gasps. “Merlin, that’s actually a good idea, Snow,” he says, sounding completely bewildered.

Prick. 

“Don’t sound so surprised,” I mumble.

I hear him chuckle.

“No it’s not… I’m not making fun of you, I’m just… I never thought about that. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome mate,” I say with a nervous laugh. 

I’d be _very glad_ if we could move on from all the sex talk. 

“Are you feeling better?” 

His voice and breathing don’t sound so strange anymore, so he _should_ be feeling better. 

“Yes. Thanks for answering the phone and putting up with my shit.”

“Of course. You can call me whenever you need, Baz. I’m here for you.”

“I know, he says, and I can hear his smile in his voice. “Still, sorry for bothering you at work. And for, you know… talking about sex. I know it’s not… That I probably shouldn’t, but I haven’t told anyone but you about the assault so my options of people to reach out to were rather limited.”

He hasn’t even told Dev and Niall? 

I mean, I guess it’s easier to handle for him if Niall isn’t fussing over him, but still, I’m a little surprised. He tells them everything.

“It’s alright. I understand. And don’t apologize. I care about you more than I care about work.”

“Still, you should be going back, shouldn’t you?”

“If you don’t need me anymore, then yes. Otherwise I can stay on the phone longer, it’s fine.”

“No, no,” he says, his voice sure. “I need to go talk to Lamb anyway. I kind of left him there to go freak out in the bathroom.”

“Rude,” I tease, chuckling.

He laughs softly, and the sound finishes easing my worry. 

**…**

**Baz**

I put a robe on before leaving the bathroom

because I’d feel a little silly walking out starkers.

I freeze when I enter my room.

He isn’t here.

His clothes aren’t scattered on the floor anymore, and he’s nowhere to be seen in the room. 

Shit, did I mess up that bad?

His phone charger is still plugged, though, so at least he isn’t _completely_ , but where the fuck is he?

My heart in my throat, I head downstairs. He likes going to the music room to play my family’s piano, he may have gone there to cool down after his stupid, fuck up of a boyfriend left him hanging halfway through having sex. 

Fuck maybe I should have put actual clothes on, I think as I reach the bottom of the stairs.

Too late.

I’m not going back to my room now, I need to see Lamb.

There's soft music coming from the room. So he _is_ here. Thank Merlin.

My hand hovers over the door handle, but I eventually turn it, opening the door and coming inside the room.

The music stops immediately and Lamb turns around, his eyes falling on me.

“Baz.” He doesn’t sound angry. I can’t help sighing in relief. “Are you alright, love?” he asks as he offers me his hand tentatively.

“Yes. Well, not really, but… Yes,” I answer as I walk the distance between us. 

I push his knees apart enough to stand between them and wrap my arms around his shoulders. I want to hug him but I know he won’t make the first step, not after what happened. When I gently push his head against my chest, he circles my hips with his arms. 

“I was scared when I got out of the bathroom and you weren’t there,” I admit, because it’s easier to say it when we’re like this and he can’t see my face. “I thought… I thought you’d left because you were angry with me.”

“I’m not angry with you, Baz. I couldn’t be angry with you for doing what you needed to feel safe,” he says as he moves his head just enough to kiss my stomach.

It gives me butterflies. Crowley, having my stomach touched makes me much too soft, it’s shameful.

“When you went to the bathroom,” he continues, his forehead pressed against my sternum. “I heard you call Simon. I didn’t want to intrude on your conversation so I came here instead. I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry.”

My hand goes up in his hair, stroking it. It’s so thin and silky, it slips between my fingers like running water. 

“I’m sorry too. For leaving like that, and for not being able to…”

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupts me. “Don’t you _dare_ apologize, Baz. You did exactly the right thing. I would have gone insane if I knew you forced yourself to bear it.”

“I would have gone insane if I’d let you finish.”

My hands ball into fists around his hair as I say it, because it’s _true_.

It makes me so fucking angry.

Why can’t I fucking have sex without… without feeling like _this_ ? Why can’t I just get over it? I’ve done the therapy, I’ve done all of those other things without being uncomfortable, so _why_ can’t I fucking do _this._

I _knew_ it was Lamb, I was _sure_ it was Lamb, why couldn’t I let myself enjoy it?

The tears come back, tears of frustration, and they spill out of my eyes before I can think of holding them back. 

“Why can’t I just have sex like a normal fucking person,” I whisper, anger directed both at myself and the situation ringing in my wet voice. 

Lamb holds me tighter. 

“Hey, don’t say that. After what you went through, it’s understandable that having sex would be hard for you. Don’t beat yourself up, I’m sure you can work on it and become more and more comfortable, if it’s what you wish.”

“Of course that’s what I wish,” I snarl. “I want to _fuck,_ Lamb.”

He strokes my back soothingly where he’s holding me.

“I only meant…” he says as he looks up. He seems to be hesitating. That’s strange. “If you’re not comfortable having sex like that… maybe… if you preferred, we could… you could top me. We could still fuck, and it probably wouldn’t trigger you.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “You don’t bottom.”

“Let’s say it’s not my favourite thing to do,” he says with a chuckle. “But I don’t hate it. If you were more comfortable that way, I wouldn’t mind. You’d have to be gentle with me, though.” He chuckles again. “The last time I got fucked was probably in the 90s.”

Either he’s really horny, or really willing to make things easier for me, if he’s suggesting this. 

Either way, I shake my head. “No, I don’t want to fuck you. I want _you_ to fuck _me_. I want to be able to have sex the way I like. I… Simon suggested something that I think is worth a try, actually.”

I can’t believe Simon Snow of all people has help me find a way that might allow me to have sex normally again. 

I mean, he’s probably keeping his own interest in mind too. I _know_ he wants to get back together with me. He wouldn’t want a boyfriend who starts crying in the worst possible way after the first thrust up his arse. But he still helped.

Lamb arches an eyebrow. “What did he suggest?”

“Using a dildo, so that I get used to the feeling of a cock inside me and can learn to enjoy it again.”

Lamb seems as surprised as I felt when Snow brought it up -in my defense, I wasn’t sure Simon even knew what a dildo was. 

“That does seem like a good idea… We could look through what I have at home when we’ll be back, if you wish?”

My lips curl up in a smile. 

I’ve never really gotten to see everything Lamb owns, when it comes to objects you can use during sex. I only ever see the things he brings to our bedroom or that we use in the playroom, but I know he must have a considerable amount of things. 

“I would like that,” I answer as I use my hold on his hair to tilt his head up. I get down a little, so that I’m not as much taller as I am while standing, until my breath gets mixed with his and the tip of our noses touch. “For now I’d like to cuddle, if you don’t mind.”

He moves one of his hands to the front of my robe, slipping it under it. He starts rubbing my stomach tenderly and I melt. “I certainly don’t mind,” he whispers, the words getting lost in my mouth as he kisses me. 


	35. Chapter Thirty Five

**Baz** : Hello, gentlemen

 **Dev** : Wtf is that group chat? I don’t want to be in a group chat with Snow

 **Lamb** : Why am I here?

 **Simon** : HEY THAT’S MEAN🥺

 **Baz** : I just wanted you to get a ton of notifications, Lamb. But you can also enjoy witnessing the general chaos.

 **Niall** : what is it Baz?

 **Baz** : Thank you very much Niall, my one and only true friend, for at least pretending to give a shit about what I have to say. 

**Baz** : You’re all invited to Lamb’s place tonight. We’re celebrating.

 **Dev** : Why? Did he propose lol

 **Simon** : aha. 

**Lamb** : Just to be clear, I did not propose.

 **Dev** : You said no Snow, you can’t complain if someone else puts a ring on him

 **Simon** : IT WAS OVER A YEAR AGO OMG CAN YOU JUST SHUT UP ABOUT IT

 **Dev** : I’ll shut up about it when you put a ring on him

 **Baz** : Quiet children, no one is putting a ring on me. 

**Dev** : Not on your finger at least, right Basilton

 **Lamb** : I like the way you think.

 **Dev** : OUTCH

 **Simon** : ?????

 **Niall** : nothing, I just hit him, and apparently he has to be vocal about it on the group chat

 **Dev** : Domestic violence

 **Baz** : Don’t joke about that. 

**Dev** : …Sorry

 **Dev** : I’ll go back to joking about your weird fucking relationship with Snow

 **Simon** : 🙄🙄🙄

 **Niall** : CAN YOU ALL JUST LISTEN TO BAZ I WANT TO KNOW WHAT WE’RE CELEBRATING SINCE IT’S DEFINITELY NOT A PROPOSAL

 **Baz** : Thank you again, Niall.

 **Baz** : So.

 **Baz** : As you may know.

 **Dev** : Mate just get to the point we don’t need a million texts

 **Baz** : Hush, it’s for dramatic effect.

 **Baz** : As I was saying.

 **Baz** : I have been working on something.

 **Baz** : A book.

 **Baz** : An essay on vampires, if you will.

 **Baz** : A few days ago, I went to Watford without telling anyone and spent about 3 hours presenting the manuscript to Mitali Bunce in the hope that she will accept to make copies of it and distribute it. She reached out to me today with an answer.

 **Simon** : omg is she going to????

 **Baz** : As it happens, after having read it, she deems it quite educational and considers it would be good for our kind to know serious, and TRUE information about vampires, so she will be making copies of my book and distributing them. 

**Simon** : OMGGG CONGRATS 🎉 

**Dev** : Yeah, good job mate!

 **Niall** : that’s great, Baz!

 **Baz** : Yeah. I hope no one will ever need this information the way I would have needed it when I was younger, but I’m still glad it will be out there just in case. 

**Niall** : it’d be good to read for mages in general, though

 **Dev** : Maybe they’d be less scared of vampires if they knew how fucking ridiculous you people are

 **Lamb** : Excuse me?

 **Baz** : We’ll see if vampires are the ridiculous ones when I’ll enthrall you and force you to do stupid shit. 

**Lamb** : That’s quite a funny threat coming from someone who’s never used their thrall on a mortal.

 **Baz** : Hey, don’t ridicule me in front of my friends!

 **Lamb** : You added me to your silly group chat.

**…**

**Lamb**

Baz looks up at me, plaintive eyes and pouty lips. It makes me want to lean down and kiss them. 

“You’re so mean,” he complains, headbutting my stomach.

I chuckle as I slide one of my hands in his hair, both playing with it and holding his head in place on my lap. 

I do lean down, but not to kiss him. I lick his cheek, which he says is gross but I know he likes, and then I say, my lips close to his ears. 

“You’ve become such a brat since we stopped playing ; talking back, whining...” I put my thumb on his bottom lip, and he opens his mouth immediately, to suck it. I smile, and trail it down his chin instead, and then his neck, leaving him there, lips parted. I relish the way he swallows with difficulty under my thumb. “You’re lacking discipline.” I bite his jaw lightly, and there’s a catch in his breathing. “I should punish you.”

“Yes,” he says, nodding almost imperceptibly.

His pupils have gone wide. He’s so eager.

My beautiful boy. 

“You agree? Do you think I should punish you?”

My hand goes a little lower, and I hook my index finger under his collar, tugging on it.

There’s almost no grey left in his eyes.

“Yes.”

Funishments were always his favourite things. He loved playing at being bad to be punished, but he never did anything to get a _real_ punishment, thankfully.

He can be a little bratty at time, but he’s obedient, so obedient. 

So perfect.

I let go of his collar and sit up straight in a blink of the eye, causing a confused expression to spread on face. 

“Alright then. For now, answer your friends,” I tell him as I carefully lift his head to be able to get him off my lap, and stand up. 

“What?” he says, baffled. 

I give him an amused smile. “Well, I have groceries to buy if your friends are coming tonight love. See you later.”

“Are you fucking serious? You’re just going to _leave_?” 

He sounds so offended. Poor mislead thing. 

I wave at him, as I walk backwards to the entrance. “Bye bye, love.”

**…**

**Niall** : ANYWAY, when do we have to come?

 **Simon** : i get off work at 6 so not too early please

 **Niall** : should we bring something?

 **Dev** : We’re granting him with our presence, it’s more than enough

 **Niall** : Baz?

 **Simon** : BAZ YOU’RE THE ONE WHO’S INVITING US, ANSWER YOUR PHONE

 **Niall** : … I would have said it less aggressively but I’m with Simon on that one

 **Niall** : Baz? Lamb? someone? can we get an answer?

 **Baz** : Yeah, sorry. Lamb was asking what I wanted him to buy for tonight. Is 7:30 good for everyone?

**…**

**Lamb**

When I come back home, one bag full of groceries on each of my hands, I see Baz curled up on the couch, hugging his knees. 

I pause for a moment, doubt taking hold of me. Maybe I shouldn’t have left after making him think I was going to be dedicating my time to him.

I kick my shoes off and put the bags down, hanging my coat on the rack.

As I walk closer to him, I realize that even though his eyes _are_ staring into space, he doesn’t look disconnected from reality or distressed, like I thought.

No, instead, he’s pouting.

Brat. 

Relief washes over me and I give him a smirk. 

“Did you have fun on your own baby?”

“Fuck you,” he answers, glaring at me. 

I cock an eyebrow. 

“What did you just say?”

He bores his eyes into mine provocatively, repeating very slowly. “Fuck you. You said you were going to punish me and then you didn’t do _anything._ Fuck. You.”

I get closer and closer to him as he speaks, to end up towering over him when he spits the last “Fuck you” in my face. 

I put my hand around his throat.

**…**

**Baz**

His eyes are dark, and I can tell the exact moment he notices, because they become even darker and he squeezes my neck a bit too much to be enjoyable. 

“Where is it?”

I gasp when his hand loosens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He chokes me again, pressing down on my windpipe and pinning me to the couch. This time, he squeeze just enough to feel good, to give me a rush of adrenaline as he cuts my breathing.

He lets go.

“Answer me. Why did you take it off? Where did you put it?”

**…**

**Lamb**

He doesn’t answer.

Of course he doesn’t answer.

He never outright broke a rule like this, especially when it came to his collar. He’s too glad to wear it to think of taking it off without my agreement. 

I don’t know if I should punish him for it or not.

We’re not doing scenes at the moment, all _those_ rules have been dropped, but he kept his collar, so _these_ rules must still apply. Besides, he did it purposely, to provoke me. He knew what he was doing. You don’t accidentally take off a locked collar okey is abandoned in a drawer. 

“Give me your phone.”

He frowns “What?” 

I step back, and show him my open palm. 

“Your phone, Basilton.”

I see something flash in his eyes when I say his full name. 

“I’m not giving you my phone,” he says stubbornly.

“Yes you are, unless you want to get in even _more_ trouble. Don’t try me.”

He glances at me for a moment, probably considering whether or not it’s worth disobeying, and eventually, he puts his phone on my hand. 

I keep my eyes on him -and the phone out of reach- as I say “Hey Siri, send ‘Don’t come to Lamb’s tonight, it’s cancelled.’ to Niall and Simon.”

His face falls when he hears me, and he tries to grab his phone before the message can be sent, but doesn’t succeed.

“You can’t keep me from seeing my friends!” He shouts, offended. 

“No, I can’t. You have a choice,” I say, making my voice dangerously sweet. “You took your collar off. Without asking me. I _have_ to punish you for that. Now what you can decide is if you want to stop being a bitch and get your punishment now, or if you want to have your little party, which will anger me more and make your punishment worse.”

**…**

**Baz**

I have to admit, when I was looking for the key to my collar, I was excited to see what Lamb would do to me for taking it off. Now, as I see how dark his eyes have gotten, I’m starting to regret seeking a _real_ punishment.

I look down, bowing my head.

“I want it now.”

“Very well,” Lamb says, as he slips my phone inside his pocket. I suppose he’s going to keep it for as long as my punishment last.

**…**

**Lamb**

I’m trying to come up with something quickly, so that he won’t see that I’m completely lost. I never thought about any serious punishment, because I didn’t think I’d need one. 

I think of the reason why he took his collar off, and it gives me an idea. 

“You wanted attention, right? You’re a needy, impatient brat who couldn’t wait an hour or two before he had his fun, and this is why you chose to break the promise you made me when you asked me for the collar. Am I wrong? Answer me.”

“You’re not wrong,” he says, his voice barely audible.

“Speak up.”

“You’re not wrong,” he repeats, louder.

I hum, and step back once again, so that I’m too far for him to touch me, even if he reaches out with his arm. 

“So since attention is what you wanted… You won’t get any. I won’t talk to you until tomorrow morning. I won’t touch you until tomorrow morning. I won’t _look at you_ until tomorrow morning. You’ll have dinner when I’ll be done eating and you will sleep in the guest room. The only word I want to hear come out of your mouth after your punishment starts is red if you need it, but don’t use it if you don’t need it _just_ because you want to get yourself out of your punishment. I will know it, and be very disappointed. _You_ put yourself into this. Have I been clear? You can answer.”

His face has fallen completely, a betrayed look in his eyes. It makes my heart clench in my chest, but I don’t let myself yield. He did this to himself, and I don’t deem it cruel. It’ll be unpleasant for him, he’s always seeking attention, but punishments are supposed to be. 

“Yes.”

“We’re starting now,” I tell him before I leave the room.

**…**

**Baz**

I should have kept the bloody collar on.

It’s only been 5 hours, the sky outside is barely dark, and I already feel like shit. 

The first two hours were fine, I watched a movie and it was just as if Lamb had gone to his office to work. 

Except usually, if I watched a movie while he worked, I’d go to him once the movie was over, sit on the floor next to him, and rant about what I’d just seen as he played with my hair absentmindedly.

Today I _couldn’t_ do that.

I started _another_ movie but I quickly started to feel restless, just sitting here _alone_ , so I scrolled through social media on my laptop -since he has my phone. I sent a message to Dev, Niall, and Snow, making up a reason other than “Lamb’s punishing me because I’ve been bad” to explain why tonight was cancelled. Chatting with them made me feel better, once we stopped talking about Lamb. 

But now, I’m at the kitchen table, _alone_ , in front of a _single_ plate and cutlery for _one_ person and _one_ glass and I feel nauseous.

I’ve been bad.

Lamb is always so good to me, and just because I would have had to wait a little bit to have fun with him, I was feeling petty and I took my collar off. I broke one of the rules. 

I don’t even deserve to have been given my collar in the first place if I’m so willing to take it off to throw a tantrum. 

I try to force some chicken down my throat, swallowing with difficulty. 

I don’t want to make Lamb more upset by not eating, but I feel so sick. Sick at my shitty behaviour.

It takes me almost an hour, but I eventually finish my plate, washing it by hand. I have time to waste after all. 

Besides, focusing on a task might make my nausea go for a while.

I wash Lamb’s dishes too, and the two cups we drank out of after lunch, sitting _together_ on the couch.

Fuck, I don’t know what I imagined my punishment would be but I didn’t imagine _that_.

I thought he’d hurt me or something, but I guess it doesn’t count as a punishment if I can still get some satisfaction out of it…

Which is definitely _not_ what’s happening now.

I got too used to being with Lamb 24/7. In my adolescence, I was used to being alone, I could find some peace in it, but now it’s _Lamb_ that brings me peace, and I’m not alone, I’m _lonely_ and I hate it.

When I exit the kitchen, I see that he’s relaxing on the couch and it just makes things worse.

I’m aching for his hands in my hair, for a feather light kiss on my forehead or cheek, for the feeling of safety I get when his knees are on either side of my body or my head is on his lap.

But I can’t have any of this.

Because I disobeyed and now he doesn’t want to touch me. Or talk to me. Or look at me.

I thought he’d at least _react_ when he heard me come in, not because he intended to, but because it was a reflex, but no. It’s like I’ve completely stopped existing for him.

**…**

**Lamb**

This seems to be harder on him than I thought it would be. I heard him do the dishes -it’s the house chore he dislikes the most- and now he’s in the bathroom -he took a shower before lunch. 

It is also harder on _me_ than I thought.

I don’t mind seeing him being uncomfortable during scenes or just in bed because I know that ultimately, he enjoys it. He isn’t enjoying _this_ in any way.

But I won’t stop it earlier than I said I would. This forced solitude should teach him a lesson.

**…**

**Baz**

I go to bed early, because there's no point staying up. Besides, the sooner I sleep, the sooner this awful fucking day will be over. I will wake up tomorrow morning and Lamb will want me again.

But what if he doesn’t?

What if this time he got to spend alone without my presence has shown him that I was a bother to him? What if he has realized he misses being alone and tells me to go back to my flat? 

My hands clench around the bed sheets.

The _wrong_ bed sheets. They’re not as soft as those in Lamb’s room, and if I look down at them, I’ll see that they’re not the same colour either.

I turn around to bury my face in the pillow. It’s too hard and smells too clean. 

_I hate this._

**…**

**Lamb**

He’s been in the guest room for three hours now, and I can’t hear any sound through the door, he must be asleep. I _hope_ he is because it would be awkward if he saw me coming to his room when I told him I was ignoring him.

Thankfully, he _is_ asleep, hugging one of the pillows and his face pressed against another one. 

I approach discreetly, making as little noise as possible not to wake him up.

He shifts, and I fear I’ve been too loud, but when I see the way his eyebrows are furrowed, I understand he must simply be dreaming. 

I finish closing the distance to the bed, and push some of his hair away from his face to kiss his temple. 

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

**…**

**Baz**

I jump when I hear the door of Lamb’s room open, my heart starting to beat faster. 

_Fucking finally_. I feel like I’ve been in the living room forever. I haven’t been up this early since Watford.

He frowns when he sees me and it makes me want to curl into a ball.

He must be annoyed to see me here.

He must have thought he’d get some alone time, some _peace_ before I woke up and started bothering him again. 

**…**

**Lamb**

He looks hurt.

Fuck, I should have come up with something else. Or I should have at least let him sleep in our room. 

I give him a smile, hoping to make him feel a little bit more comfortable, and I hurry to the couch. 

“Hello, love,” I tell him softly.

I can barely sit that his arms are around me, holding me tight as he pressed his face against my neck. He’s breathing me in, even if there’s nothing to smell. 

He’s trembling.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck._

I hug him back, manhandling him to sit on my lap and rubbing circles between his shoulders.

“Hey, baby it’s alright. You’re forgiven, I’m not angry with you, it ends now sweetheart. I’m here.”

“You still want me?”

The question, whispered with a voice full of doubt, takes me aback.

What horrible things has he convinced himself of, this time?

“Why wouldn’t I want you, Baz?”

I feel him bite his lip before he speaks.

“I thought… I thought maybe you asked me to stay away from you because you’re getting tired of me and you wanted to see whether or not you’re better off without me annoying you all the time.”

Dear God. 

“Baz… Baz, you don’t annoy me. And I’m not getting tired of you. If I’m being honest, I didn’t particularly enjoy the experience either. Especially when I went to bed.”

He emerges from under my chin, giving me a shy, tender smile that makes my heart flutter.

“Me neither. I fell asleep hugging a pillow,” he admits, his cheeks turning pink.

I chuckle.

I brush his hair away from his face, leaning in to kiss the corner of his lips. “I sent a message to your friends and told them to come tonight.”

He frowns.

“You’re letting me have a party? But I’ve been bad.”

I shake my head softly. “You misbehaved, yes, and that’s why I punished you. Now that you’ve been good and born your punishment without complaining, it’s forgotten. I’m going to put your collar back on, if you wish…”

“Yes,” he interrupts me, nodding. “Yes, please.”

His enthusiasm makes me smile wider. “Alright. And no taking it off without asking this time.”

“I won’t, I promise. I won’t even _look at the key_ ever again.”

He shakes his head just as vigorously as he nodded, his eyes going wide as if the idea of taking his collar off was completely crazy.

I guess being alone _did_ teach him a lesson.

“Good boy,” I laugh, kissing him again, on the tip of his nose this time. “As for your little party,” I continue. “Of course I’ll let you have it, because I’m incredibly proud of you for getting your book out there and because you deserve to celebrate this accomplishment.”

”Thank you,” he whispers as he cups my face, his eyes shining excitedly.

He’s the one who kisses me this time, on the lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of Baz being a brat because he’d been too good so far...
> 
> I know, I know, I’m writing a lot of Lamb/Baz, but hey, that’s my only chance to do so and I’m kind of enjoying it😂  
> But I promise, the Snowbaz content is coming back soon... there’s just a thing or two I need to make Lamb and Baz do before...


	36. Chapter Thirty Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut chapter  
> Again  
> Don’t blame me

**Baz**

I’m standing in front of our bed, shirtless and my hair still damp, trying to decide which shirt I want to wear, when Lamb decides to do something very unusual for him : bring chaos into my peaceful existence. 

“So I had an idea,” he says casually, as he leans against the doorframe. 

“Hm?”

“It’s an idea I had yesterday, actually, before you threw a tantrum.” He walks towards me, and I stop looking at my shirts to look at him instead. There’s this gleam in his eyes I used to see very often, though when I did, I usually was naked and on my knees in the playroom. “Keep in mind that it’s just an idea, though, you don’t have to agree… I just think it could be fun.”

He’s standing behind me, now, and he puts one of his arms around my waist, pulling me close. 

He rests his chin on my shoulder.

“I have a feeling it would be funnier for you than for me,” I say, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips as I feel his free hand travel on my torso, to go tease one of my nipples. 

“It would be fun for you too… But yes, it would be plenty of fun for me,” he admits, rolling my now hard nipple between his fingers.

The bastard is trying to get a sound out of me, I know it. I keep my mouth tightly shut, except to speak.

“And what is that idea? Is it something we’ve done before?”

He pinches my nipple, twisting it a little, and I can’t hold back a pleased sigh. 

“Strangely enough, no. But it’s not anything extreme, I promise. I don’t want to rush you.”

_Not anything extreme. I don’t want to rush you._

There’s only one reason why he’d be so cautious…

I crane my neck to look at him. “Are we going to the playroom?” I ask excitedly. 

We haven’t done a scene since…

Well, since before Halloween. 

I don’t think we’re going to do one now, but I wouldn’t mind playing a little… 

I won’t ask Lamb though. It’s his choice to make.

I’m the one who decided when we did what in bed. He’s the one who decides when we return to the playroom. That’s what he said, all this time ago. 

“Not exactly,” he answers, and I try not to let my disappointment show.

 _He_ didn’t show me how disappointed he was when I made him believe he’d get to fuck me again and ended up needing more time, I can’t be disappointed because he thinks we need to wait more for that too.

“Your friends are arriving in an hour or so, love, even if I wanted to do a scene, we wouldn’t have enough time,” he says as he kisses my shoulder. 

He lets go of my nipple, only to go tease the other. 

“What is it that you want to do, then?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know…”

His voice sounds amused.

I turn my head again, to speak in his ear this time, because I know it’s a particular weakness of his. 

“Please tell me… Please, I’d like…” I’m interrupted by a loud moan when his hand unexpectedly slips under my waistband and closes around my cock. “ _Fuck Lamb_ ,” I pant, resting my forehead against the side of his head. “Just tell me what you want already.”

He laughs, the fucker.

“What I want… You’d like to hear what I want?” he asks, as if I haven’t been trying to get it out of him for the last five minutes.

He starts stroking me, and the friction of his cold, rough hand on my cock makes me close my eyes.

“I want to touch you until you’re hard.”

Well, he’s doing a fucking brilliant job if that’s his goal.

I tell him that and he bites my shoulder playfully.

“That’s not all I want. Once you’re hard, I want to take you to the playroom and I want you on the bed there because I miss seeing how pretty you look spread out on red sheets. I want to tie your hands to the bedpost, and I want to finger you. I want to stop just when you’re about to come.” I whimper at that, rolling my hips.

“Yes…”

“And then, do you want to know what I want then?”

I nod. 

“I want to put a plug inside you.” My breathing catches. I _can_ have things inside me again, now, and fuck do I love it. 

“I want to fuck you with it until you’re about to come again. Then I want to stop again. I want to leave you like this, hard and with a plug up your arse, and I want you to be forced to cool down to put clothes back on and have your party.” 

I’m grinding against Lamb now, feeling his hardening cock against my arse. That, and the things he’s saying, it’s driving me mad. Thinking of this, of spending the evening with Niall, Dev and Snow _like that_ , with a plug in my arse, it makes my heart beat so fast I can hear it pulse at my temples. 

“I want to look at you, at any point tonight, and make you blush with my gaze because it reminds you that the plug I put inside you is still filling you up. I want you so horny that you almost can’t resist the urge to grind down on it, even if your friends are here. I want you to be completely wrecked by the time they all leave. I want to see tears on your face when you beg me to _finally_ let you come. I want to see your hands scraping the sheets to try and find purpose as I take the plug out and fuck you with the dildo you prefer, you know, the one curved _just right_ to hit your prostate.” 

I moan _so fucking loud_ at that. We’ve experienced with the few dildos Lamb own, enough for me to know which one I like best, and for him to completely exploit that knowledge to torture me in the best possible way. 

“I want to see you fall apart in pleasure. I want you to be a babbling, shaking mess by the time I’m done with you. I want you to be trembling so much that I _have_ to carry you to the bathroom because your leg _won’t_.”

My blood feels so hot, and there’s a fire burning low in my stomach. 

“Do you want that too baby?” Lamb asks, before pressing a kiss on my jaw.

“Yes… Yes, please I want that.”

His hand in my pants is gone in a second and I whine. “Lamb…”

“Patience, sweetheart. We have to change rooms,” he says as he holds my hand with the same one that was on my cock.

He pulls on my arm. I follow him out of the room, and across the flat to a room that I know is larger, with darker walls and rougher carpeting, and significantly more objects that would make the people I know who are _not_ as deranged as I am faint hanging from the walls and stocked on cupboards. 

When we reach the door, which is locked -always locked when we’re not inside it- Lamb lets go of my hand and looks at me seriously.

“Not all of your usual rules apply, so consider that if I don’t explicitly tell you to do something, you don’t have to do it. Safewords obviously still apply. Remind me of them.”

“Yellow to slow down, red to stop.”

“Good boy,” he tells me, reaching out to stroke the bare skin of my side, right over my waistband. 

“I’m going to go inside the room,” he then explains, his hand still moving on my skin lightly. “Meanwhile, strip, and leave your clothes on the table by the door, folded. Then, go lay on the bed. Hands over your head. You can be on your stomach or your back, whichever you prefer, but be sure of your choice because I won't make the ties loose enough for you to be able to flip over. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He slaps my arse playfully, smiling. “Then let’s go.”

**…**

**Lamb**

I take much more time than necessary to find all I need in the cupboards, to let Baz time to do what I told him and breathe a little before we get to it. 

Sex is fine for him again. It was a long process, and we still haven’t had sex without toys, but he’s doing better. He doesn’t panic anymore, not even a little, unless there are other factors than just the fact that he has something inside of him, which is why I always make sure there’s enough light in the room for him to see me, and why I try not to stay silent, when I can, so that he can hear me. 

He climbed on the bed a few minutes ago, now, I can go to him. 

As I turn around, I curse the curtains I installed here. Objectively, they’re a good idea. They block the view of the rest of the playroom, it creates a safer space for Baz -or whoever I bring here, but well, it’s Baz now- to come back from the haze after a scene. But right now they’re blocking _my_ view. 

And what a wonderful view…

He’s on his stomach, with his hands over his head just like I told him, and his head turned to me. 

He smiles when he sees me. 

I don’t smile back, instead I let my eyes travel on him, hoping he feels my gaze as sharply as I feel his. 

Sometimes it astonishes me that he’s even _real._

When I had just been Turned, I thought vampires were made more attractive when they became one, that it was one of our characteristics, to attract mortals more easily. I quickly discovered that it was not true, but I think if _Baz_ had been the vampire I met back then, I would have believed that for much longer. 

His body isn’t the kind you see on those statues in museums, he doesn’t have strong, broad shoulders, or very defined muscles, but he still looks cut in marble, all pale skin, straight lines and soft curves.

There’s a curve I particularly enjoy looking at, when he’s in this position…

“Is the view to your liking, Sir?” he asks smugly.

I walk up to the bed, dropping everything I’m holding on it, before caressing the soft skin of his arse.

“Very much.”

**…**

**Baz**

Lamb is doing good on his promise _not_ to let me come and it makes me want to die. Fucking hell. 

When he told me his little plan, he only edged me _twice._ Twice is bearable. It’s annoying but it’s _bearable._

Now I’m on the brink of orgasm for the _fourth_ time, with his stupid fucking plug up my arse and his stupid fucking hand around my cock and I know he won’t let me come and I _hate it._

Fucking bastard.

I should have said no.

Pretended I wasn’t ready, even though I’m sure he would have called me out on my bullshit. If I can take fake cocks thicker than his, I can take a goddamn plug. 

I grind down, tugging on my restraints, to get more friction than he’s giving me, which makes him let go of my cock to slap my arse.

I moan, burying my head in the pillow, and I moan even louder when I clench around the plug in response to the impact. It makes it press on my prostate even more.

I gasp, new tears springing to my eyes, to join the ones already drying on my cheeks. 

“I’m going to come,” I choke out, which is a stupid thing to say because that’ll make Lamb stop because he’s _cruel_ and _heartless_ and he doesn’t care about me and he just wants to make me _suffer_ . “Please let me come,” I add, whining, because I’m pathetic and _not_ above begging.

But, if a few ‘please’s could grant me an orgasm, I’d have come the second time. 

“No,” is all he says, before taking the plug out of me.

He doesn’t completely retreat though -it makes me feel used in a way that I don’t enjoy and he knows it- his hand stroking the small of my back. 

“You can’t come now, love,” he says with a sweet voice. “Your friends are arriving soon, it would be terribly inappropriate to welcome them when you’ve just orgasmed…”

It’s also terribly inappropriate to welcome them with something in my arse but apparently he isn’t too bothered about that part. 

He waited long enough for me to have cooled down, and then I feel the head of the plug teasing my rim.

I _can’t_ do this a fifth time. I’m much too sensitive already, if he starts fucking me again I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold my orgasm, but he _said_ I couldn’t come without his permission and I don’t fancy a punishment right now.

_Fucking hell._

Thankfully -?- he doesn’t fuck me, simply pushes the plug in slowly until it’s fully sitting inside me.

It’s so much, but not enough at the same time.

I hope he’ll also do good on his promise to fuck me with a dildo later because I swear if I don’t get fucked - _properly_ fucked, not the bullshit he’s doing right now- today I’m going to die.

“Oh, baby I just thought about something…” he says, and I can imagine his shit eating grin. 

What the _fuck_ is he going to do to me. 

“If it’s not that you’re going to let me come because you love me and you don’t want me to suffer any longer, I don’t want to fucking hear it.”

I like patting myself on the back for being a good sub and not too much of a brat -most of the time- but _fuck_ there’s one thing I don’t deal with well and it’s frustration.

And he _knows it_. Motherfucker. 

He spanks me again, harder than the first time. 

I grab the soft silk tying me to the bed. My hands need to close around something. 

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

_Fuck you._

I don’t say it.

“What I thought about,” he says, already back on the topic -there mustn’t be much time left before the guests arrive. “Is that I may have forgotten to mention a particular function of the plug.”

I have a horrible feeling about this.

Just as I think that, the plug starts to fucking _vibrates._

Holy fucking shit.

I bite down on the pillow, not wanting to do Lamb the pleasure of hearing me moan.

“I will turn the vibrations on tonight,” he starts, and I have to try really hard not to let out a sound. The sensation _and_ imagining _this_ happening while I’m chatting with Dev or Niall or Snow… it’s so much. It’s so good.

When Lamb continues speaking, it’s with a softer voice, his usual voice. “Unless you tell me now that you’re not comfortable with them. This is the lowest level and I will not go higher, but if it’s still too much already I want to know. Is it alright? I want a truthful answer, I won’t be disappointed if you say no.”

“It’s alright.”

It’s _more_ than alright. 

We haven’t used a vibrator yet -back when he still could, Lamb shoved his cock up my arse, not toys- and I have to admit I’m a little thrilled at the thought of using it in those particular circumstances.

I knew that the risk of being caught could do it for me since that one time when Snow fingered me as I was on the phone with my parents, but I also knew it was _low_ on the list of things that aroused me.

Apparently it’s not that low.

“Good,” Lamb says, and I can hear the satisfaction in his voice. 

He makes the vibrations stop and I whine, missing the sensation already. He chuckles as he strokes the small of my back soothingly again. I love it when he does that.

“I have to go get a few things, do you want me to free your hands now or when I come back?”

“Now please.”

His hand slides up my back as he walks his way to the other side of the bed on his knees. There, he undoes the ties carefully, his fingers caressing the faint pink marks on my wrist that should be gone in a few minutes. 

He bends down to kiss my temple. “I’m coming back, love, just wait for me, I promise I won’t be long. And no touching yourself.”

I let out a sound between a hum and a groan as he gets out of the bed. 

I close my eyes and try to think about anything that isn’t the plug in my arse and my half-hard cock, which considering how far gone I still am, isn’t that difficult.

I feel like I’m floating, the physicality of Lamb’s touch kept me down but now that he’s gone I’m just left here with all those feelings and sensations accumulated in the past… minutes? Hour? I have no idea how long we’ve been here.

**…**

**Lamb**

I act slowly when I go take a shirt for Baz in our room, water in the fridge and those chocolate bars he loves in a cupboard, to have time to cool down. If he thinks he’s the only one getting frustrated by all of this, he’s _wrong_. He’s so gorgeous when he’s lost in pleasure, not controlling the sounds that come out of his mouth nor the needy rocking of his hips. I missed this. 

Seeing him like that. Since the last time we went to the playroom, he’s grown more and more relaxed when we had sex, but he never let go quite as much as he did now. It was beautiful. 

I collect the clothes he left on the table when I come back inside the playroom, then quickly join him behind the curtain. I haven’t been gone _that_ long, but I try to leave him alone as little as possible when he’s still high on pleasure.

He’s lying almost the exact same way he was when I left, but he turns on his back when he sees me. His cheeks are tear streaked and his lips pink and swollen. His pupils are a little wider than normal and his smile is soft, so soft. He’s breathtaking.

I tell him so, and he smiles wider.

I sit on the bed next to him, and put down everything I’ve carried here next to me.

Then, I wrap one of my arms around his shoulders and move his body as best as I can with the little help he’s giving me until he’s sitting with his back against my chest. I kiss his cheek as I take the small water bottle. 

“Open your mouth, love.”

I make him drink and eat the chocolate, rubbing his stomach and talking to him the whole time, his cheeks turning pink as I say again and and again how beautiful and perfect he is and how glad I am to have him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, and of course, I’ll write what they do later than night in a chapter...


	37. Chapter Thirty Seven

**Baz**

I smile at Snow when I open the door on him.

We haven’t seen each other face to face in two weeks now, and I’m glad to be seeing him again.

It’s becoming harder and harder to go several days without seeing him… Thankfully we text daily, but it’s not the same as seeing those blue eyes and smelling the cheap grocery store shampoo he still stubbornly uses. 

“Hey, Simon.”

“Hi!” he answers with a huge grin on his face, warming me up inside. Not that long ago, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see one of those blinding smiles directed to me ever again. “Congrats for the book, really. You did an amazing job.”

I want to grin like an idiot, like him, but instead, I cock an eyebrow, and say smugly “Of course I did.”

He rolls his eyes.

“God, you’re such a prick. Here, for you,” he says as he pushes a package against my chest.

I’m a little surprised, but I take it.

“You bought me a present?” I say, skeptical.

The one time Snow got me a present was for Christmas, when we were dating. I don’t really understand why he’d give me one now. Christmas was over a month ago and my birthday is in a few weeks.

He blushes.

“Yeah. It’s something I wanted to send you for Christmas but, uh, not everything went the way I planned so I couldn’t give it to you before. Whatever, it’s just a silly thing, don’t expect too much,” he babbles, not looking at me, as he makes his way inside the flat. 

I watch him kick his shoes off. 

“Can I open it now?” I ask, as I glance at the badly wrapped present.

One of the corners of the wrapping paper sticks out more than the others, and there’s enough tape for 5 different presents. 

He shrugs, because what else would he do?

“If you want, I don’t care.”

He’s still not looking at me as he takes his coat off and hangs it on the rack.

Why is he so shy about his present?

Crowley, what has this moron gotten me. 

I want to look up at him, to ask something, anything, but Dev is calling him before I can. “Hey Snow! Come here, it’s been a while I haven’t seen you.”

“It’s not my fault you never come with Niall when he comes to my place,” Snow comments as he heads towards the living room. 

I stop paying attention to their conversation to focus on Snow’s present instead.

I tear the wrapping paper as carefully as I can, not to risk damaging whatever is inside, and see…

A book?

 _Simon Snow_ got me a book?

I unwrap the present more impatiently, confirming as the paper falls on the floor that it _is_ a book. 

I flip it to read the back cover. 

Patroclus? Achilles? Helen of Sparta?

I mean, I’ve read the Iliad -this book clearly seems to be a retelling of it- but I had no idea Snow had even heard of it.

I’ll have to question him about that. 

For now, I slip away for a moment to go put the book on my nightstand. That’ll keep me busy for a few hours tomorrow. 

**…**

**Simon**

Crowley what a fucking idiot.

Why did I get him a fucking present. Why did I give it to him _now_? I should have waited for his birthday, it would have made sense. But his birthday is so far away, and I’m so nervous to know if he likes it…

Baz is insufferable with books, I’m sure he’ll read it tomorrow, or the day after if he’s feeling lazy.

Oh my god, what if he hates it?

It’s not like _I_ can tell whether or not a book is good, but Baz wants -wanted? I’m not sure he still wants to go to uni, let alone to Oxford- to study classics, that kind of shit is his area of expertise, it’s what he likes. 

A book was a terrible idea, fuck.

He interrupts my thoughts by coming back to the living room. He stands in front of Dev, Niall and I, and ask if we want drinks.

Dev asks for some drink with alcohol, Niall for whatever fizzy drink Baz has, and I shrug, because I don’t care. 

Baz rolls his eyes. “Come with me, then, you’ll choose in the kitchen.”

This is a trap. He’s going to talk to me about the book. Probably _make fun of me_ about the book. I don’t read. He must think it’s ridiculous that I, of all people, would buy him a book. 

Still, I follow him to the kitchen.

Lamb smirks at him when we pass by him and I frown, wondering why, but quickly chasing that thought.

I haven’t been around Lamb much, but whenever I was, I never understood half of the things he did and said around Baz. 

When we get to the kitchen, Baz starts taking bottles and glasses and ice cubes out of the fridge and cabinets. “Look in the fridge and take whatever you want to drink, and if you could take a can of diet coke out for me.”

“Diet coke is disgusting,” I say with a smile.

When we were still a sort of functional couple and we bought groceries together, we once fought for 5 solid minutes over which kind of coke to buy. I wanted regular, he wanted diet. We ended up not buying any.

“Shut up, I like it.”

He pours pepsi in a glass, for Niall, I assume. 

“It’s still disgusting. That’s disgusting too,” I say, pointing at the glass he just filled as I put the can he asked for on the counter.

“Agreed, but Lamb _and_ Niall both prefer this atrocity.”

I open my own drink as I lean against the counter. Baz didn’t ask me to leave, and I’m pretty sure he wants to talk about the present anyway. 

“So,” he says, opening a bottle of whiskey. 

Some of it has been drunk already. I know it’s not my business, but I hope he wasn’t the one drinking it. Considering the way he pours the alcohol quickly in two glasses before closing it precipitately, I suppose he wasn’t the one drinking it, and that manipulating it isn’t so fun for him. 

“You bought me a present?”

Bingo.

“I did,” I answer, chuckling uncomfortably. 

“A book.”

I rub the back of my neck. “Yeah.”

“Why a book?” 

There’s no malice in his voice, he just seems genuinely curious to know why I bought him a book.

He’s done making the drinks now, we’re just standing in the kitchen talking. 

“Well, I work at a bookshop,” I answer. “So I’m kind of around books all day.”

He hums, nodding, as if it all started to make sense to him.

“But why this book in particular? And why couldn’t you give it to me before, like you wished?”

Because I’m a mess, Basilton, what else.

“Well, I saw a few people buying it at the shop, and it got me curious so I looked it up, and I saw it was some sort of retelling of the Iliad. I’ve read the Odyssey but not the Iliad so…”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he interrupts me, making stop motions with his hands. He looks like I just told him I murdered his entire family. Crowley he’s such a dramatic arsehole. “ _You_ , Simon Snow, have read the Odyssey?”

“Don’t look so surprised,” I groan, kicking his feet. I _know_ he thinks I’m stupid I don’t need to be reminded. “Yes I read it. The Mage made me.”

It was long and boring and I thought I was going to die. Some parts were cool though, when there were monsters involved, but overall, it was not a good experience. 

But once again, books aren’t my thing.

“The Mage made you read the Odyssey but not the Iliad? That’s stupid. Whatever. You still haven’t told me why that book?”

Actually can he keep telling me I’m stupid?

“Oh, yeah.” I clear my throat. “So when I read what it was about, I thought it would be a nice thing to get you because I know you like Greek mythology and shit. But like, I didn’t want to get you a shitty book so I thought I’d read it before I buy it for you, so that’s what I did and that’s why it took some time. It was good but the writing made my head hurt if I read more than one or two chapters in a row,” I admit, my cheeks burning.

I’m sure Baz can read books twice as long and complicated as this one without feeling like he just did something extraordinary.

Baz’s eyes go soft in a way that makes my _heart_ hurt. Fuck he’s so beautiful. 

I miss him so much.

_No._

He’s got someone.

If he wanted to be with me again, I’m pretty damn sure I’d know it. 

“So… You thought I would like the book… And _you_ read it before giving it to me?” he says, with an edge I don’t quite understand in his voice.

“Yeah. ‘t was a good book in my opinion, by the way, but it was _so sad._ I cried to Ollie about it, he wasn’t impressed. You’re a softie it’ll probably make you cry too.”

I’m rambling.

I don’t think he hated the present, but just in case, I’m not sure I want to hear it. 

I have to listen, though. 

“Simon, that’s… that’s adorable. I’m really touched, thank you.”

I shrug, my whole face turning red as a weight lifts off my chest. “You’re welcome.”

He likes the fucking present.

He might hate the book, but at least I didn’t completely fuck up. 

He gives me a small smile, before handing me one of the glass, the one filled with pepsi.

“Would you mind taking that to Niall?”

“Yeah, sure.”

I take the drink, then watch him as he puts his can on his front pocket -he hasn’t opened it yet- and the two remaining glasses. 

I follow him when he heads out of the kitchen, and frown when he tenses, letting out a strangled sound.

“Are you alright?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

His voice is a little weird. 

“You sure?” 

“Yes Snow, for magic’s sake.”

**…**

**Baz**

_That fucking bastard._

When I’m carrying drinks.

And when I’m _with Snow._

I fucking despise him and his stupid ideas. Why did I agree to this?

The vibration feels so good though…

I collect myself and keep walking in a way that I hope doesn’t let anything show, until I reach the living room.

I glare at Lamb when I give him his glass, which only makes him smile.

He takes his hand out of the pocket, but the plug is still vibrating.

Aleister Crowley, isn’t he going to stop it.

“Thank you love,” he says, with a mocking voice.

I glare at him again, mouthing ‘ _Fuck you_ ’.

I’m sure if my friends weren’t here he’d smack my arse. 

But they _are_ here, so he doesn’t do anything, he simply brings his glass to his lips and takes a sip.

I bring his drink to Dev at the same time as Snow gives his to Niall, and the both of us go take a seat. Snow, on the couch with Dev and Niall, me on the armchair opposite to Lamb’s. I take care to take my can out of my pocket _before_ I sit. 

I hold a surprised gasp when I feel the plug shift inside me. 

_Why did I agree to this._

Because it feels bloody brilliant, of course. Because I knew it’d feel bloody brilliant. 

Lamb looks like he’s having a field day watching me.

I start chatting about my book to Dev, Niall, and Snow, which allows me to focus on something other than the fact that _I have a vibrator up my arse_ , which seems to make things boring for Lamb because he eventually turns it off, discreetly slipping his hand in his pocket, and thankfully keeping it there for a moment not to show that he looked for something in it.

**…**

But obviously he turns it back on at the worst possible moment.

I’m in deep conversation with Snow and Dev about football, getting quite passionate because Niall decided to open his mouth to make a very constructive and smart comment “Shut the fuck up, football sucks.” which I just _can’t_ let him get away with, when I change positions, leaning forward.

Lamb turns the plug back on at this exact moment.

The way I moved made it shift again, pressing against my prostate, and coupled with the sudden vibration, it’s just too much.

A choked moan interrupts my rant.

My hand flies to my mouth to muffle it, but it’s too late.

In insight, trying to muffle it probably made the situation even worse.

I _could_ have tried to make it pass for a coughing fit if not for my reaction.

And yet, I can’t help grinding down on the plug, clenching around it to feel more. 

_More,_ is all I can think of. 

“Baz?” Niall says, frowning. “Is anything wrong?”

I shake my head, swallowing the moan that almost escaped my throat as the plug hit my prostate just right.

“No, no, I’m fine, I… I just need to use the loo,” I blurt out, standing up.

Of course, the bloody thing shifts _again._

I’m sure my cheeks are pink.

I see Niall, Dev and Simon look at each, puzzled, but I don’t pay attention to that as I rush to the bathroom.

“I’m going to check on him,” I hear Lamb say.

When he enters the kitchen a few seconds later, I’m resting my hands flat on the counter, leaning on it, my hips and the muscles in my arse moving on their own accord to try and get the stimulation I had on my prostate when I was sitting down.

“Yellow,” I whisper once Lamb closes the door.

The vibration stops immediately and he comes behind me. 

“Are you alright?” he asks as he rests his hand on my hip.

“Did you _have_ to turn it on now?” I groan, but the fact that I’m still trying to get some friction from the plug doesn’t make my complaint very legitimate.

Lamb chuckles.

“You said you were okay with the vibrations baby, you could have said no.”

“I bloody should have,” I mumble as he buries his head in the crook of my neck, laughing softly.

“I don’t think you mean that… I think you liked it. I think you liked pleasuring yourself while your friends were none the wiser. You’re a dirty slut who enjoys feeling a plug up his arse while he’s with his friends, and you’re ashamed of it. So dirty…” he whispers, before licking my neck teasingly.

That’s something he often does before biting me, and it drives me inside because I _want_ him to bite me, and I also want him to bloody take the plug out of me and _fuck me_ . The position we’re in, with him behind me, and the fact that we’re in front of a mirror really doesn’t help. Getting fucked in front of a mirror is something that I _particularly_ enjoy. 

But none of that can happen now and I know it. Not when my friends are waiting for us in the next room. 

Fuck, I hate this. 

“Lamb, please we have to go back,” I say, even if losing the feeling of his body aligned with mine is pretty much at the bottom of the list of things I want at this very moment.

“You’re right,” he says, giving me a smirk in the mirror.

When I flip him off, he puts his hand inside my back pocket, squeezing my arse. “Patience, love. I’ll take care of you later, I promise.”

And then he’s gone.

**…**

**Simon**

Baz is walking a little funny when he comes back. He was walking a little funny too when he went away.

Actually, it kind of looks like…

How he’d walk after we spent the night fucking, when his arse was still a little sore. 

I don’t know if my cheeks go red at the memory, or annoyance at the thought of what Lamb and Baz must have done for him to walk like that. 

“Are you okay now?” Niall asks, always so caring.

“I was okay before,” Baz answers. 

He isn’t sitting still. He keeps shifting, trying to find a good position, I assume. 

If his arse hurts, it might be difficult sitting…

I chase that thought before it can anger me.

Baz wouldn’t have fucked just before we came, he’s not like that. He was always grumpy when _we_ fucked right before we had to see people because he was scared it would be written all over his face that he’d just gotten a good shag.

And even if they did fuck, it’s not my business.

I feel this jealousy, so familiar, but so much more manageable than before, make my blood a little hotter. 

It’s _not_ my business. Baz can fuck if he wants. 

**…**

**Baz**

The rest of the evening goes smoothly. 

Lamb didn’t turn the plug back once -he probably understood my ‘yellow’ as me not being able to handle the vibrations at all and not me not being able to handle the vibrations at this very moment, which I’m not exactly mad at- and talking with my friends is always pleasant now that Dev’s tone is only playful when he says anything about Snow and I, while he could get rather aggressive, in the past. 

Dev and Niall leave a little before midnight, and Snow is on his way to leave shortly after. 

A part of me doesn’t want to let him go.

It’s always like that when I see him, but the easier things are between us, the hardest it is. 

Because the easier things are between us, the easiest it is to fantasize about being back together with him. 

But…

It’s not the right time.

It might have been, if Halloween had never happened.

But it has, and I’ve barely started to really recover from the assault, after weeks of denying it had even affected me and then weeks of jumping when Lamb touched me too unexpectedly. 

I’m too fragile to let myself walk back into Snow’s chaotic mess of a life just now. 

“So,” he says, putting his hands in the pockets of his coat. “Tell me what you think about the book?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll probably read it tomorrow. Don’t be surprised if you receive a few dozen messages.”

He laughs softly.

“Yeah I know. You get passionate,” he says, looking up at me.

His eyes are so blue.

Not blue like the ocean or the sky.

Not turquoise or navy.

Just blue.

Ordinary blue.

Simon Snow blue.

“I do,” I say with a smile. “It’s just… difficult to shut up when I have strong feelings for… something.”

Or someone. 

He smiles back and I melt. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to see Snow’s smile without feeling a million butterflies having their fun in my stomach. 

“So… Goodbye,” he says, and then he _leans in_ as if he was going to…

He freezes when my eyes go wide in surprise, and his cheeks turn bright red. I can _smell_ the blood in them.

He chuckles nervously.

“Sorry, it’s just… Liv, when she says hello or bye, she kisses you on the cheeks. That’s a french thing apparently. I got used to that, I guess,” he babbles, looking down at his feet. “Sorry I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

I’m not sure I buy his little explanation, but for the sake of my sanity, I’m going to believe him.

“You’re a moron, Simon Snow,” I tell him as I pat his shoulder. “But goodbye.”

**…**

I don’t go to Lamb directly after Snow leaves. Not that I don’t remember his plan, I’m very much _aware_ of it and need it to come to life, but I have to get Snow out of my head before I let Lamb touch me.

At first I didn’t care, at first I _wanted_ him to touch me as a distraction from Simon Snow, but now I respect him too much to have sex with him while I’m thinking about someone else.

He seems to understand that, because he doesn’t stop me or try to talk to me when I open the doors leading to the patio and isolate myself outside.

**…**

**Lamb**

I’ve known since I saw them sleeping next to one another after that terrible Halloween night that I was losing Baz, that he would be running back to Simon soon. I’m not that surprised that he still hasn’t, he had enough on his plate already during the last couple of months, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he ended things between us soon.

It doesn’t matter. 

I’ll miss him, of course, we spent months and months together, but he won’t be the first person I lose, nor the last, and there’s nothing I can do about that.

What I _can_ do, however, is make each day we still have together count. Give him good memories.

**…**

The show I’m watching is starting to get boring when I feel arms wrap around my neck from behind.

“Hi,” he whispers, his voice getting lost in my hair. “If I remember well, you’re not quite done with me.”

I put one of my hands over his. “I’m not. Go wait for me in our room, I have to get the toy.”

There’s a catch in his breathing, which makes me frown.

He lets go of me, which makes me frown _even more_ and walk around my armchair to sit on my lap, which finishes intriguing me. 

Does he not want that anymore?

“I… I need to ask you something,” he says as his hands rest on either side of my neck, his thumbs following the line of my jaw. 

My own hands mechanically go to his hips, holding him there.

“What is it?”

“I don’t want a toy. I want…” He bites his lip, before shaking his head slightly and boring eyes full of determination into mine. “Can you fuck me? For real?”


	38. Chapter Thirty Eight

**Baz**

“Are you sure?”

I like the tone of his voice when he says it. He doesn’t make it too sweet, like he’s talking to a child, and he doesn’t sound like he’s completely doubting my words. He’s just making sure.

It’s like when he asks me to name my safewords and if I’m using any of them when we’re in the middle of something. It’s not because he thinks I can’t handle it. He simply doesn’t want to have any doubt that I’m fine.

“Yes,” I answer, kissing his cheekbone, just under his eye. 

I’m just hoping he won’t get _his_ hopes too high. I _think_ it should be okay, and I really want it, but I also thought it would be okay and really wanted it the first time.

I feel his hands cup the back of my thighs right before he holds me up, without staggering even a little.

 _Fuck_ , he’s strong. That’s so hot.

He takes us to the bedroom quickly, probably not fancying having to wait any longer to fuck me now that I told him he could do it with his cock, kissing the bit of skin where my shirt is unbuttoned. 

He lets me down on the bed gently, stroking my thighs up and down as he looks at me. 

“How do you want to do this?”

Good question.

In front of the mirror in the bathroom, is the first thing I think about, but that thought is gone as quickly as it came. I’m not sure that Lamb fucking me from behind while we’re both more standing up than lying is the best way to go about this if I want it to go well.

“Like this. On my back I mean. And… please be gentle.”

He bends down to kiss my cheek. “Of course love.”

Then, he starts trailing kissing along my jaw, then my neck, as his hands come up between our bodies to unbutton my shirt.

I try taking off his own shirt, but he shakes his head. 

“Don’t do anything. Just feel it, alright?”

Well I’m not opposed to that.

He untucks my shirt and spread the tails apart so that my torso is competent uncovered.

“Okay but hurry up. I want to see you naked.”

He smiles against my skin. “Patience.”

_Patience._

What a stupid word that is. 

Once his lips reach under my navel, his hands work on the button and fly of my jeans, before his fingers hook under the waistband of both my trousers and pants. He looks up at me, and when I nod, he pulls them down slowly, kissing his way down one of my legs at the same time. 

We haven’t done anything already, and my heart already feels so full. He rarely undresses me like this, worshiping my body as he does so. Clothes are a bother, he simply gets rid of them as quickly as he can usually.

But I suppose that’s what tonight is about.

Taking the time to do things slowly. 

Making me feel adored. 

I like this.

I like when he fucks me hard into the mattress, biting and scratching and holding my hips so tightly that I bruise for days, choking me and calling me name, jerking me off and hitting my prostate relentlessly even after I’ve come, when I’m so over sensitive I can’t breathe and feel like my entire body is just exposed nerves.

But I like this too. 

The slow kisses and feather light touches. The way he cups the back of my head, his hand getting lost in my hair, before he pulls me into a tender, unhurried kiss. The “You’re gorgeous,” he whispers in my ear.

I like this but I want more. Need more. I can still feel the plug inside me and it’s driving me crazy.

“Lamb please… please I want you.”

He pecks my lips.

“I know sweetheart,” he says, amusement in his voice, before he pushes himself back up. 

He isn’t as slow with his clothes as he was with mine, and I’m grateful for that. I don’t want a show, I want to see him. Feel him on me, skin on skin.

Feel him _in_ me.

A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of it, but it’s the good kind of shiver. The kind that makes my cheeks pink and gets a soft sigh out of me. 

When his trousers fall on the floor, I crawl my way up the bed, resting my head on the pillows. 

So many pillows. Lamb keeps complaining about it. He says we only need one pillow each -he even argues that since I use _him_ as a pillow we only really need one. _I_ want to be able to bury my head in pillows.

I look down when I feel the bed dip. 

Lamb kneels over my leg, stretching to reach inside his nightstand for the lube. If he’s getting it now, that probably means he won’t drag things on forever. Good. I don’t have it in me to be teased right now. We can keep the part where he reverently kisses and caresses every inch of my body for another day.

“Your skin is so pale. So perfect,” he says, his fingers brushing my ribs. 

“Whose fault is that? You haven’t hurt me in a while, Sir,” I answer with a lustful smile.

I miss it less than I thought I would, but I do miss it. The leather of his belt and of that whip that makes me feel overwhelmed just thinking about it on my back. The tightness of the ropes when he wrapped me in them. The burn of the candle wax, when we felt like playing with fire. 

Or simply the feeling of his hand on my arse when he spanked me until I was decorated in bruises and still sore the next day.

“Lamb,” he corrects me, kissing my hip bone. “And I’m not going to hurt you any time soon. Not yet.”

He bites the soft skin of my stomach teasingly, just as he drags his hand _lower_.

I whine when I feel him hold the base of the plug.

“Do you want me to take it off or fuck you with it a little?”

“Take it off,” I answer immediately.

I’m already starting to feel myself getting hard, and I have no intention of keeping that erection for too long.

No teasing. I want to get off.

He chuckles, but still does as I say, taking the plug out slowly, making me feel each tiny movement.

Then it’s out and I _should_ be satisfied but it feels even worse than having it, unmoving, inside me.

I clench around it but there’s nothing to clench around anymore, and I feel so _empty_.

Lamb must understand that from my reaction because he shushes me, stroking my buttock with his thumb just close enough to apply pressure on my hole.

“Sh, it’s alright baby. I’m going to take care of you.”

“I need you…”

“I know love.” His voice is so soothing. “Just wait a second, I’m going to make you feel good I promise. Do you want fingers first or did the plug stretch you enough?”

I shake my head. “No fingers. Just fuck me please,” I answer, rolling my hips.

I need him inside me, I need him so much, and I need him now.

“Okay,” he says at the same time as he uncaps the lube. Just the sound of it could make me cry.

I also hear him spit, which surprises me because I don’t feel it coming on my arse, but then his hand is around my cock, slick with saliva. 

It doesn’t take me long to be fully hard after that, which only makes me more desperate.

Just as I’m about to beg him _again_ , I feel the tip of his cock against my rim and it knocks the air out of me.

Fuck this is it.

We’re going to do it.

Lamb holds my hip with one hand, to manipulate me and angle himself better, while his other hand finds mine, next to my head, lacing our fingers together.

His eyes are so full of care when they bore into mine. 

“Ready?”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. 

But of course, Lamb won’t let me _not_ speak. 

“Give me a verbal answer, Baz.”

“Yes. Yes, I’m ready. Please, Lamb, I need you.”

My voice sounds just as wrecked as I thought it would. It’s just all _so much_. The thought of Lamb fucking me, really fucking me. All this built up anticipation from earlier today, and from having the plug inside me all evening long. 

He positions his help better, pressing in a little, and I…

“Wait!”

He moves back immediately, looking at me with a hint of worry in his eyes.

“I… It’s just… I… _Fuck._ ”

I push myself up just enough to grab the back of his neck, dragging him down with me and slipping my tongue inside his mouth.

He kisses me back, letting me set the pace, so I kiss him slowly, just the way I like, while playing with the hair at the base of his neck.

“Wait a minute,” I whisper against his lips when he pulls back. “Stay here.”

I take my hand off his neck, to reach my nightstand. I hesitantly pat down until my fingers close around my wand. 

Lamb looks at me curiously. He isn’t so fond of magic, so I never use it on him, nor in bed -even if I’m sure there are some quite interesting things that could be done. 

I give him an enigmatic smile, before pointing my wand up.

It obviously works on walls, but maybe it could on the ceiling too… Magic is also about intent, after all. 

“ **Mirror, mirror on the wall.** ”

It takes a few seconds, but it works. Lamb and my reflection appear over our heads. I’m staring directly into my own eyes.

Lamb crane his neck to look too, and his eyebrows shoot up when he sees what my spell has done.

“A mirror?” he says, giving me a skeptical look through it.

I see my cheeks turn pink. “A fantasy of mine. Do you mind?”

His eyes glisten when he turns his head to look back at me.

“I certainly don’t.” He pecks my lips. “Are you ready now or do you need more time?”

“I’m alright,” I say, looking back and forth between him and the mirror. 

Lamb pushed himself back between my legs, in the position he was in before I pulled him into a kiss.

In the mirror, I can _see_ his cock against my arse, so much better than I normally could. It’s fascinating.

He must notice me staring, because he says, “Enjoy the show.”

And then he pushes in. 

I keep my eyes on the mirror, watching our bodies getting closer and closer until he bottoms out. 

He looks up at me at the same time as I turn my eyes back on him. His thumb is rubbing circles on my hand.

“Are you alright?”

Am I?

I don’t feel this crushing pain in my chest, nor the wave of nausea that hit me last time. I have a cock inside me, a real cock with skin and veins, not a cold, inanimate toy, and I…

“I’m alright,” I confirm, nodding.

A smile blossoms on his lips. He’s so beautiful. 

He leans down until his face is over mine again, his eyes gleaming a little.

Either not fucking me was harder on him than he showed, or he’s just glad that I’m finally comfortable getting properly fucked again. 

Glad that I’m not completely ruined. 

He captures my lips before I can tell him to _get on with him_ , kissing me even more sweetly than before.

I sigh into his mouth when he moves his hips back, and then forward for the first time. 

I missed this. So much. 

When his lips retreat, he whispers “I love you,” the word falling between my parted lips, before he rocks his hips again, a little harder. He’s not doing much yet, moving slowly and purposely avoiding my prostate, but it feels like so much. 

Because it’s the first time in so long.

Because he _waited_ that long, when he could have easily found himself someone else to fuck.

Because he’s being so gentle, so careful, making sure this is good for me.

Because he’s everywhere, in me, on me, in front of my eyes and on the ceiling. 

Because he just told me he loved me. 

My eyes are pricking when I say, “Lamb?”

Another thrust, that makes me moan low in my throat and a kiss pressed to my neck. “Yes?”

“Stop being a sap and fuck me.”

His laugh vibrates against my skin.

**…**

I’m close, I’m so close.

We didn’t even start that long ago, which is rather embarrassing, but the feeling of Lamb _inside_ me, the sound of skin slapping against skin, his moans and groans as he takes his pleasure in me, the way his body moves in the mirror…

It’s incredible.

And completely overwhelming.

“I’m going to come,” I tell him, those tears I’ve had in my eyes since we started finally rolling out of them. 

“Look at yourself,” he breaths out, as he pushes himself back on his knees.

It changes his thrusts, making them less deep, because the angle isn’t as good, but harder, because he can move his hips better in this position. 

“What?” I ask, confused by his request. 

“In the mirror. Look at yourself. I want you to see how gorgeous you are when you come.”

I want to protest -this is kind of weird, though we’ve definitely done weirder things- but whatever words I was about to say die in my throat when he put my legs on his shoulders, making me tighten around his cock.

We both groan at the same time. 

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he says as he begins pumping my cock.

I throw my head back, my eyes wide open on my own face, just as Lamb asked, as an earth shattering orgasm hits me. Lamb fucks me through it, his hand still on me too, and it’s _so much_ , I feel like I’m coming forever. Vaguely, I notice that he’s coming too.

I stare at my reflection the whole time, as my come splashes on my stomach and Lamb’s fill me up. My eyes are so big, and there’s almost no grey left in them. They’re shiny from the tears rolling down my pink cheeks. My lips are red and parted.

I have to say, if that’s the view Lamb always gets when he watches my face as I come, it’s not that bad of a view. 

I whine when he slips out of me, which makes him chuckle.

“Missing my cock already, baby?” he teases me, which doesn’t sound half as irritating as it usually does due to the fact that he’s panting.

He lets himself fall on me, careful not to crush me, and I put my arms around his shoulders.

“Shut up, old man.”

He laughs, something deep but still breathy.

“Is that a way to talk to someone who just made you come?” he says, before sucking a love bite on my neck lazily.

“You say that as if your come isn’t dripping from my arse at this very moment. Which is absolutely disgusting, by the way.”

It is but fuck, I love it. Because I’m disturbed.

“You came first.”

I can’t deny that, so I just kick his shin, a very mature response, I know. “Shut up.”

**…**

**Dev** : BASILTON

 **Dev** : What freaky shit did Lamb and you get up to?

 **Niall** : Dev, Merlin

 **Dev** : What? I’m sure you want to know too

 **Niall** : yes but I wouldn’t have asked like that

 **Dev** : Doesn’t matter

 **Dev** : Baz are you going to answer you useless fuck

 **Dev** : You walked like Niall after our first time, I wanna know why

 **Niall** : you’re sleeping on the couch

 **Dev** : I’m not

 **Niall** : yes you are 

**Dev** : No I’m not

 **Dev** : I’m not talking to you anyway 

**Dev** : I’m talking to Baz

 **Niall** : text him in private then

 **Dev** : Deal

**...**

**Dev** : BAZ ANSWER DAMMIT

 **Dev** : Don’t ghost me like that

 **Dev** : You walked like you’d gotten fucked all day

 **Dev** : DID YOU get fucked all day?

 **Dev** : If you say yes I’m never coming over to your place ever again

 **Dev** : I don’t want to exist in a place that has been profaned by the weird shit Lamb and you do within the 24 hours that precede my visit

 **Dev** : ARE YOU PLANNING ON ANSWER THIS CENTURY????

 **Baz** : I’m not reading all of this, what the fuck do you want?

 **Dev** : FUCKING FINALLY

 **Dev** : I texted you two hours ago you fucker, it’s about time

 **Baz** : Yeah, whatever. I was busy. What do you want?

 **Dev** : By busy you totally don’t mean your vampire boyfriend was buggering you

 **Baz** : I’m not answering you anymore.

**…**

**Niall** : you’re making my husband grumpy. he’s sulking

 **Baz** : Good for him.

 **Niall** : I have to admit, I’m curious too

 **Baz** : Curious about what?

 **Niall** : You were walking like you had a stick up your arse

 **Baz** : …

 **Baz** : Well.

 **Niall** : ...Baz

 **Niall** : ...why were you walking like that?

 **Baz** : It is POSSIBLE that Lamb MAY HAVE put a vibrator in my arse while the three of you were here

 **Niall** : oh my-

 **Niall** : you’re so- I can’t believe you

 **Niall** : you mean to tell me that the whole time you were fucking yourself on a bloody vibrator?

 **Baz** : Well, it wasn’t vibrating all the time.

 **Niall** : I hate you so much

 **Baz** : Oh come on, as if you couldn’t see the appeal.

 **Niall** : I DON’T see the appeal

 **Niall** : you know I’m not into that weird stuff Lamb and you do

 **Baz** : The vibrator was very low on the list of weird things we do 

**Niall** : and I don’t want to hear about the top of the list, thank you. I’d like to keep a somewhat dignified image of my best friend in my mind

 **Baz** : Pity.

 **Baz** : I was about to share something with you that I thought you might enjoy but since you don’t want to hear about it…

 **Niall** : 🙄

 **Niall** : does it involve pain or doing weird shit IN PUBLIC BAZ FOR FUCK’S SAKE

 **Baz** : Ah, I see you’re interested.

 **Baz** : No it does not involve pain, or doing “weird shit” in public. I wouldn’t want to scare off my poor vanilla friends.

 **Niall** : fuck off. it’s not my fault I don’t get off on getting the shit beaten out of me. just say your thing

 **Baz** : Well, next time you and Dev have sex, spell a mirror over the bed. Mirror, mirror on the wall works just fine. 

**Niall** : a mirror?

 **Baz** : I promise it’s great. You can see so much more than you usually could. I found it quite arousing. 10/10, would recommend.

**…**

**Dev** : YOU DID NOT STAY AN ENTIRE EVENING WITH US WITH A VIBRATOR IN YOUR ARSE YOU FILTHY BASTARD I’M NOT VISITING YOU EVER AGAIN


	39. Chapter Thirty Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s super short compared to my usual chapters, I’ll give you that, but I have no idea what to add to it, so it’s going to stay that short, sorry 
> 
> Also I think this is the last chapter both endings (the Snowbaz one and the Snowbaz + Lamb one) would have in common, but I’m not 100% sure about that because I have very little idea of what the next chapters will be made of

**Baz :** Snow

 **Simon** : baz?

 **Baz** : Are you at your place right now?

 **Simon** : yes, why?

 **Baz** : Will you still be in, say, 30 minutes?

 **Simon** : YES, WHY?

 **Baz** : I’m coming over

 **Simon** : why?????

 **Baz** : Because I have been deeply emotionally broken by that fucking book you gifted me and Lamb says he’s sick of hearing me whine about it so I’m coming to your place to complain. You brought this upon yourself, you’re the one who got me that damned book and you KNOW I get emotional.

 **Simon** : Baz, you finished the book a week ago

 **Baz** : WELL I HAVEN’T RECOVERED YET

**…**

The door opens -I told him he could come in without knocking- and only a few seconds later, Baz dramatically lets himself fall on my couch, half lying on me with his head on my shoulder.

“How could you do this to me,” he says with a pained voice. 

I push him off me, laughing. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s just a book.”

He presses his hand against his heart, looking at me with a shocked expression on his face. It makes me laugh even more.

“It’s just a book _to you_. That thing has ruined me, Snow. I find myself remembering quotes at random times. It’s awful. I never thought I’d say that, but curse my memory for being so good.”

I roll my eyes. Of course even when he’s whining he has to find some arrogant shit to say. 

He’s insufferable. He’s so lovely.

“What makes you so sad about it?” I ask, patting his shoulder, which makes him glare at me because he knows I’m taking the piss out of him.

He punches my arm. 

“You’re so mean. I would have stayed home if I knew you were going to be just like Lamb and ignore me.”

“Oh come on, don’t be like that. I’ll listen to you if you want, but don’t be surprised if I make fun of you. You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m not,” he says, tilting his chin. “You just apparently have no _heart_ if the book hasn’t traumatized you.”

I shake my head as I sit more comfortably, my knees pulled up to my chest and my chin resting on them. “It was sad, but it wasn’t that bad, you’re just being over the top, like you always are.”

He slaps my leg.

“Anathema!” I shout, and then I look up at him, giggling at my own stupid joke. 

He rolls his eyes, pretending to be exasperated, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

**…**

**Baz**

“So, that book?” Snow says after being an insufferable little shit for a while longer. “What’s so sad about it?”

“Have you not read it? Fuck, I _knew_ how it would end, I’ve read the Iliad, and it still ripped my heart out of my chest. How did you survive it _not_ knowing that Patroclus would die?”

Admittedly, works of fictions don’t make Snow as sad as they make me, but _still._

“Hey, I didn’t say it didn’t make me sad. It did. I cried a bit honestly. But I mean, in the end, it’s just fictional characters,” he says, shrugging. “Besides, they have a happy ending. They find their way back together, at the very end.”

He hugs his knees a little tighter. 

**…**

**Simon**

“Thank Merlin they do!” Baz exclaims excitedly, leaning towards me. I’m sure he’s going to start talking with his hands soon. “It would have been tragic, a love like theirs being ruined by death.”

“Any love being ruined is tragic,” I say, looking down at my feet.

“Yes, but _their_ love, Snow… It’s… It’s _more_ than love. They’re soulmates. I could almost feel it when I was reading. There’s this particular quote that stuck with me and that I’ve reread a million times…” He clears his throat, and takes his quoting voice. _“I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world._ That’s… It took my breath away when I read it. It’s… It’s so intense. It’s the most absolute form of love, the kind of love you hear of in stories, the kind of love that could stop the earth from spinning and turn off the sun, when you love the other so much that they’re practically a part of you, when you _know_ them, truly know them, everything about them, down to the way they breathe and walk. It’s… It’s…”

**…**

**Baz**

It’s what I felt for you.

It’s what I _feel_ for you.

**…**

**Simon**

His hands fall on his lap as he closes his mouth, unable to find the right words. 

“It’s just _more_ than love. And it’s too beautiful to be ruined. That’s my point.”

“Well it wasn’t ruined, so…”

“But it was,” Baz argues, getting serious again. It makes me smile. Merlin, he’s so gorgeous when he’s talking about something so passionately. Nerd. “Or at least, Achilles thought it was, which is just as bad. He wanted to be reunited with Patroclus, he asked for their ashes to be mixed together, but once he died, he was alone in the afterlife, until that scene at the end. It’s like he lost Patroclus, once when Patroclus died, and once when he himself died. It’s heartbreaking. Though honestly, he deserves a little pain. He wasn’t all great with Patroclus. Patroclus was so in love with him the whole time, he breathed for Achilles, his heart beat for Achilles, and Achilles well… He didn’t really reciprocate that love that intensely until Patroclus died. It’s _after_ Patroclus dies that Achilles is shown to have very deep feelings for him. It’s… It was so frustrating to read. To see that Achilles cared _that_ much but that he didn’t show it to Patroclus, not when it still mattered.”

I shake my head. I didn’t see it like that, when I read.

“I think you’re being too harsh. Yes, those feelings were probably already there, with that intensity, but he probably hadn’t realized it yet. To me, he didn’t fail to show Patroclus how much he loved him because he selfishly wanted to keep it from him, to appear tougher or whatever, but because he didn’t know it himself. I… sometimes you don’t see just how much someone means to you until you lose them and you have to exist without their presence in your life and without their _love_ ,” I say, my eyes going up on their own accord.

When our gazes meet, I lose my breath. 

I said too much.

It’s not very fucking hard to make the connection between what I said and my and Baz’s situation.

**…**

**Baz**

Maybe pouring my heart out to Snow through my -still truthful, despite the obvious fact that I projected on Patroclus- opinion on a book wasn’t my smartest idea, because now he’s doing the same and I feel like my heart is going to burst.

He realized how much he loved me when he lost me.

That means he loves me _more_ now than he did back when we dated.

Being loved by Simon Snow… It was already too much back then, so much that I thought it would kill me. And he means to tell me that he loves me _more_?

He clears his throat and looks away, his cheeks red, effectively ending whatever moment we were having. I don’t think I’m mad at that, though.

“Anyway,” he says. “I just think you’re being too judgmental with Achilles. Do you have other things to rant about or are you done?” he asks, with a sweet smile, as if the sentimental mess that were the past 5 minutes never happened. 

“Actually _yes_ , I do, and you are going to hear it all, Simon Snow.” I answer, playing along. 

Because it’s easier to pretend to be just friends than to admit we’re both fucking in love with one another. 

Because even if we’ve been toeing the line between friendship and romance for a while now, I’m not ready to make a definite step towards romance yet. 

Because I’m comfortable with what we have now, and I’m terrified that if I try taking things further, we still won’t work as a couple, and this beautiful, heartwarming friendship will be ruined. 

Because I’m selfish.

Because I’m a coward. 

Because I’d like for my heart to stay intact a little longer. 

**...**

**Simon** : do you think baz is in love with lamb?

 **Niall** : why are you asking me that?

 **Simon** : just answer the question 

**Niall** : no, I want to know why

 **Simon** : ... fine

 **Simon** : you’re so annoying

 **Simon** : i’m just super confused, because i feel like he still loves me, but at the same time, he’s with lamb. why would he stay with lamb when he can have me if he loves me? i know that at first he didn’t want to try getting back together because he needed time but it’s been MONTHS, and he could very well have fallen in love with lamb during that time

 **Niall** : honestly I don’t know what to tell you

 **Niall** : it’s Baz you should be talking about this with

 **Simon** : i’m NOT going to say any of this to baz

 **Niall** : I know. I’m just saying that’s what you SHOULD do. whatever. I don’t know if Baz is in love with Lamb, I really don’t. he cares for him deeply, but I’m not sure it’s as intense as what he felt for you

 **Simon** : FELT? so you do think he doesn’t love me anymore...

 **Niall** : that’s not what I said. I didn’t word my thoughts correctly. Baz still has feelings for you, that much is obvious, but I also think his feelings have changed. before you start imagining the worst, it’s not necessarily a bad thing. I really like you Simon, you know that, but the feelings Baz had for you, before and when you dated... they weren’t good for him. they were... destructive.

 **Simon** : were they really?

 **Niall** : yes. i won’t make a list of things that were wrong about the way he loved you because it would only hurt you, but yes. and that’s the thing, now he doesn’t seem to love you like that anymore, he would have already begged you to take him back otherwise, and that’s better for him. so i think you should just wait more, if he told you he needed time, or talk to him

 **Simon** : i’m NOT going to talk to him, i told you that. if he rejects me... i can’t handle that

 **Niall** : then wait, it’s all you can do

 **Niall** : oh and Snow?

 **Simon** : yeah?

 **Niall** : if you two ever get married, i better be the fucking best man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may remember that in the very first part of this story, Baz quoted Pride and Prejudice and that’s what REALLY started it all,,,  
> It looks like he’s done it again lol


	40. Chapter Forty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, even though it's over you should stay tonight  
> Hey, hey, hey  
> If tomorrow you won't be mine  
> Won't you give it to me one last time?”  
> — Love You Goodbye, One Direction

**Baz**

It didn’t hit me on Christmas, the most beautiful holiday we had spent together back then.

It didn’t hit me on Valentine’s day, a day I knew I wished to celebrate with him, someday. 

It didn’t hit me on my birthday, one of so many more. 

It hit me on a regular day. Nothing particular had even happened, I wasn’t sad or in distress, I hadn’t seen anything that reminded me of him, and yet, as I looked out of the window in between two chapters of a book, I found myself missing Simon Snow. 

Not really even missing _him_ , I had seen him yesterday. We almost always see each other on Saturdays, now, whether at his place or mine. 

It’s his love I missed. 

I found myself reaching down, expecting a mass of unruly curls on my lap, and only finding the soft fabric of my trousers. 

The realization took my breath away, and I stayed stuck there, holding my book up in one hand, the other fisted around my pyjama bottoms, and my heart clenching in longing for boring blue eyes and messy bronze hair. 

Lamb, who was reading a book of his own on his armchair, looks up at me curiously after I’ve been frozen like this for a few seconds.

“Is something the matter?”

I blink a few times, then I close the book, with my finger trapped in it not to lose my page, and rest it on my lap.

I look back at Lamb.

“I miss Simon.”

He frowns. “You saw him yesterday.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

I can tell the exact moment the meaning of my words dawn on him. He closes his book -completely, with nothing to hold the page- and stands from his armchair to join me on the couch. He squeezes my knee gently, giving me a small smile.

“It’s alright. He misses you too. It shouldn’t be too complicated getting him back.”

“You… Why aren’t you angry with me? I just told you I wanted my ex back.”

He smiles wider, like what I just said is completely ridiculous.

“Baz, I’ve known from the moment you first talked about Simon that you’d go back to him eventually. I knew it was coming, I just didn’t know when. To be honest, I’m surprised it wasn’t sooner. I thought you’d end things between us shortly after Valentine’s day. You had already pulled yourself back together by then.”

The words take me aback, physically making me move back. 

“Lamb, I didn’t… Fuck you make it sound like I used you to fix myself.”

He strokes my thigh. “No, that’s not what happened. You didn’t fix yourself, because there was nothing to be fixed, you weren’t broken. You needed help, and I could provide it. I was happy to provide it, because I care for you and I was glad to see you grow into a better version of yourself. You didn’t use me.”

“I kind of did, though,” I argue, because I see it now and it makes me sick. “At least I did when it comes to sex. I stayed with you when I was too messed up to even fuck without having a bloody panic attack, and you were the one who had to put up with my shit and keep yourself from fucking me for _months_ , and now that I’m finally able to have sex like a normal person, I’m going to run back into Simon’s arms? I _used you._ ”

He shakes his head. “Baz. Did you intentionally work on having sex again with me knowing that you were doing it just so that Simon could fuck you?”

“No! I didn’t… I didn’t even think of Simon fucking me, I just… I just wanted to be _normal_ again.”

“Exactly. You did it for yourself. And once again, I _helped_ you, you didn’t use me. Besides, I can’t say my intentions were only selfless. I certainly wasn’t mad at it when we started fucking again…”

I blush at that.

Considering I’ve spent more days waking up sore than not since that night when we really had sex again -making up for lost time-, I think I can tell that he’s ‘not mad at it’. 

“It’s been almost two months since then,” Lamb continues. “If you were truly only using me to ‘fix’ yourself, you wouldn’t still be with me now, would you? So don’t beat yourself up about it. Now, to get back on the topic… Simon, uh?”

He says it with a suggestive voice that makes me want to roll my eyes. 

I punch his arm.

“ _Yes_ , Simon. I think I’m ready to be with him again.”

“So what are you going to do?”

That’s the complicated part.

I thought it would be easy. I never meant to grow to care for Lamb as much as I do now. I love the relationship we have, I love how I feel when I’m with him, and even if I _know_ deep in my core that Simon is the one and that things could only be better if I was with him, it hurts to think that I have to let go of Lamb.

“I don’t really know,” I admit as I turn towards him a bit more. “I want to be with Simon, I really do, but I… I don’t want to lose you. You’re so… You’ve become so important in my life, I don’t want to give up on you. But I _can’t_ give up on Simon either. It’s so… I have no idea what to do.”

**…**

**Lamb**

Poor, lost thing.

Love is so complicated. Thank God I stopped doing that to myself.

I put my hand on his shoulder and he looks up, biting his lip.

“Loss is part of life, especially for someone like you who will live forever, but in this particular case, the loss you’re going to face isn’t as bad as you think it is. You don’t have to give up on either of us, Baz. It’s not a black and white situation. Look at how things are right now. You’re with me, but Simon is still part of your life. The opposite could happen too. You could be with Simon, and we could remain friends. Our relationship isn’t solely based on the sex, I’m sure we could find ways to work it out,” I say with an encouraging smile.

I hope he’ll see that, and I hope he’ll want that. I have to admit, I don’t want to lose him either.

His eyes go wide in surprise, and that’s when I know he’s going to say something completely moronic, probably along the lines of “Why would you want me in your life if we’re not fucking anymore”, because he’s stupid like that, this boy.

“Would you want that? To be friends with me? I understand why you’d want to put up with me _now_ because we’re having sex, but when we won’t be anymore…”

I knew it. God, he’s so irritating.

“As surprising as it may seem to you, I don’t only like being with you because I get to have sex with you. So yes, I would want to be friends. You’re a person that I really like, Baz. You matter to me.”

He smiles at that, a soft, tender smile.

“You matter to me too,” he answers. “But I’m also… It’s going to sound awful, but Simon can get jealous, and if we do get back together, I don’t want him to give me a hard time because I still hang out with you.”

I click my tongue. There are some things he’ll just never learn, no matter how many times I lecture him about it.

“Baz. If you two do get back together, you can’t let Simon dictate you who you hang out with if it’s for selfish reasons that he doesn’t want you to see someone. If _you_ don’t want to, you don’t have to stop seeing me because Simon might be jealous. You can see me _less_ , but if it would hurt you to completely lose me, you don’t have to do that to yourself. If Simon truly loves you, his desire to see you happy should outweigh his jealousy.”

Baz shakes his head, pulling his knees up to his chest. “You can’t understand. You don’t get jealous.”

“Anymore,” I say with a chuckle as I lean back against the couch. “I used to be so jealous. It ruined a lot of my relationships because my girlfriends felt stifled by my jealousy, so I worked on it.” He seems completely stunned by my revelation. It makes me smile. “With time, and upon realizing that I could never _own_ someone, I had lost my chance at that when the girl who the vampire in me had chosen as mate married another, and that I’d always end up losing the people I care for at a certain time, I became less and less jealous. So I _do_ understand. I know that it’s something that is hard to control, but believe me, you’ll resent Simon if his jealousy prevents you from doing things. The two of you will _have_ to set boundaries when you start dating again, it’s crucial, and it’s okay for you to still want me in your life, even if you fucked me and Simon isn’t happy about that. Think about it, are you going to tell Simon to stop speaking to Olivia when you get together?”

“What? No, of course.”

“Then he can’t ask you to stop speaking to me. You can’t accept things that you’d deem unacceptable if Simon were the one having to do them. Do you understand? Everything I taught you about wanting things and asking for things, that does not only apply to your relationship with me. Simon and you would start on much healthier bases if you _both_ expressed what you wanted. Communication, Baz. _Communication_.”

He rolls his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. I used to lecture him about _communication_ quite often. He grew more than tired of it.

**…**

**Baz**

“Now,” Lamb says after a moment. “What do you think you’re going to do? I suppose that our relationship is over now, right?”

_Over._

The word makes me feel a little lightheaded. 

When I told Lamb I missed Simon… I didn’t realize the full extent of what that meant, and he just hit me with it.

Over.

If I want to get Simon back, my relationship with Lamb has to be over.

It makes sense. I’m not going to try and get Simon back while I’m still dating someone else, it’s disrespectful to both of them, and I _want_ to try to get Simon back, _now_ , I don’t want to wait any longer, but…

But I don’t want my relationship with Lamb to be over now. It’s too brutal.

“I… I don’t want that.”

He sighs, as his hand goes up in my hair, holding me. “You can’t have us both, Baz. But it’s okay. You’ll be happy with Simon, I know you will be. So if you want to end things with me before you start pursuing him, as you should, do it. It might be difficult, at first, but it’s a good loss. A blessing in disguise, because in the end, it’ll allow you to be with him. With all the research you’ve done on vampires, you should know. It’s Simon you’ve chosen as your mate. You were meant to go back to him eventually. It’s the best option for you.”

 _Yes,_ of course I’ve figured that out. I did the moment Lamb explained to me what “vampires mate for life” truly meant. I _know_ that I’ll never love anyone else the way I love Simon Snow, but that doesn’t mean I _can’t_ love anyone else, and I love Lamb and it hurts to… 

To let go.

It hurts less than when Simon left me. Back then, I was rejected. _He_ decided he didn’t want me anymore. This time, I’m the one making the decision.

Then why is it so fucking hard? Was it like that for Simon too?

“All I’m saying is,” Lamb continues. “It’s alright if you want to wait a bit more to end things between us, I’ll gladly stay with you for as long as you’ll want me, but ask yourself whether it’s truly worth waiting more when you now know that you’re ready to be with Simon in that way again.”

**…**

**Lamb**

And that’s when he does something I wasn’t expecting.

He climbs on my lap, the same way he has so many times, cupping my face. His eyes look sad.

My hands hold his hips, the same way they have so many times.

“I just… I can’t just walk away from you like that. How would _you_ be okay with it if I just… stood up and left? And that it was it? That this was how it ended? I don’t want it to end like that.”

“It doesn’t have to end like that. It can end however you want. I’m not going to be the one breaking up with you, Baz, so you can do it whichever way you prefer. As I said, I’m perfectly fine with you wanting to be with me a little longer.”

Because even if I want to leave the choice up to him, I would _not_ be okay if he just stood up and left, as he said. After he’s been such an important part of my life for months… I would not be against a proper goodbye.

He moves his hips, bringing our bodies closer.

“Then can we… One last time… I… I’ll move back to my flat tomorrow, but tonight can we… Can we still be together tonight? Can you… Can you fuck me one last time? To say goodbye. For closure, or some shit like that,” he says, with tears in his voice, that’ll probably soon reach his eyes.

Baz, beautiful Baz.

I give him a smile, before sliding my hand up his back, to cup the back of his head and bring his lips on mine. 

**…**

**Baz**

We fucked for a long time that night.

First, we snogged on the couch, something slow and still rather innocent.

Then he took my clothes off, slowly, carefully, and it all became less innocent. We kept kissing, but naked this time, bare skin against bare skin.

I explored his body with my lips and hands, tracing lines and shapes that were familiar but were bound not to be anymore in the future. 

He fucked me for the first time on the couch, with lube that I spelled because we were both too impatient to go get it in the room. He fucked me from behind, slowly, so slowly our bodies almost made no sound as they met, except for the wet noises of the lube. 

Then we made out some more, still in the haze of our orgasms.

We went to the bathroom, and he fucked me against the counter, leaving a straight red mark low on my stomach and a handprint on the mirror. We went inside the shower, and he fingered me as hot water ran along our bodies. 

We went to the room and he kissed me and touched me softly until I was ready for another round, and we fucked again, face to face, messily kissing almost the whole time.

We took some time to rest, and then I asked him to take me to the playroom. I collapsed on the bed there with bruises and more tear tracks on my cheeks than before. He applied ointment to my back and thighs while showering me in compliments. 

Then he fucked me one last time, against the doors leading to the patio, a fantasy I’ve had since pretty much the beginning of our relationship. I came with my eyes set on the view of London at night. 

Finally, we went back to the room one last time, exchanged a kiss a bit too full of feelings, and slept tangled together. 

Now it’s the morning, and I’m about to leave.

I have to. If I don’t leave now, I won’t ever be able to.

I put all of my clothes back in that suitcase I used so many months ago to bring them here, under Lamb’s still sleepy gaze. I also packed the few other things in the flat that were mine, and closed the suitcase with a heavy heart. 

Then, I walk up to the bed, and sit on it next to where Lamb is lying down, bowing my head down. He understands, and kneels behind me to take off my collar.

_For the last time._

There’s a lump in my throat, and my neck feels so naked, so exposed. 

He strokes my shoulder blade soothingly. “You could buy a regular choker, without a lock, if you still want something to tug on,” he suggests.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

I start standing up, but he stops me with a firm hand on my arm. “Just in case you assumed anything else ; I’m still here for you. If you need me, for whatever reason, call or text me, alright?”

I put my hand over his, giving him a weak smile. “I will.”

“And you can keep your keys. I’d rather you have them.”

“Alright.”

He squeezes my arm, then lets go of me. 

So this is it, right?

I stand from the bed, walking to collect my suitcase, and then crossing the distance to the door of the bedroom. 

As I reach the doorframe, he calls my name.

“Baz.”

I turn around, taking a last look at him. He’s sitting, lazily resting his weight on his hands behind his back, the sheet only covering his naked body up to the lower part of his stomach. He has a tender smile on his face.

“What?” I ask.

“193,” he says, his smile turning into a smirk. 

I frown, confused. “What do you mean?”

“That’s how long I’ve been alive. 193 years.”

“And you’re only telling me _now_?” I say, laughter in my voice.

That bastard. I’ve asked about his age since the _beginning,_ and he always refused to tell me. He said he…

“I had to keep some part of mystery.” His smiles become soft again, and he shooes me with his hand. “Now go, Baz. Your future is waiting for you.”


	41. Chapter Thirty One

**Lamb**

The flat seems so empty without Baz in it.

I lived alone for decades, it shouldn’t be so strange, but somehow it is. This boy left a bigger impression on me than I’m willing to admit, with his sometimes childish behavior, his insufferable shows that I almost know by heart from hearing them so much, his overdramatic attitude and never ending passionate rants, his irritating magic that never failed to make me shiver uncomfortably and his bratty tendencies.

But it’s for the best. 

I’m a selfish person, and I allow myself to be selfish about a lot of things. But not this. 

He has a bond with Simon, that much is obvious, the kind of bonds only vampires can form. Whether Baz wanted it or not, his very being has chosen Simon, and that’s not something he can change or I can fight.

I was too broken when Sybil married another man to prevent Baz from being with Simon. Even if it hurts me, and even if it hurts _him_ , there was no better choice.

He’d have regretted it his whole life, if he’d let his fear of the intensity of his feelings keep him apart from Simon, and forever is an awfully long time to suffer from past mistakes. He would have resented me for not encouraging him to go after Simon.

I simply hope things will go well for them.

Their relationship seems complicated enough, considering their past -and I’m not even sure Baz told me everything about their past- but they have this thing, that I’m sure will make it work.

Love.

Deep, true love. The kind of love I’m so afraid of that I’ve been cowardly avoiding it for decades and decades, not wanting to suffer anymore. 

It’s so brave, knowing that it could destroy you, and still choosing it. 

**…**

**Baz**

Moving back in my flat is… strange. 

This place has never felt like home, it’s not a place of comfort. It’s where I spiraled so hard after Simon left me. Where I drowned my sorrow in alcohol and cut my veins open to feel something other than the crushing pain in my chest. It’s where I came back after fucking strangers, feeling hollow because despite how much I tried to convince myself of the opposite, one night stands aren’t for me.

It’s cold, impersonal, full of this furniture I didn’t chose and I don’t like and with no personal effects to make it cozier. 

I don’t want to be here, I don’t like it here.

For a moment, around noon, lying on the couch, doing nothing but staring at the ceiling I think about calling Fiona and asking if I can move in with her. But I’ve neglected my family recently, since I moved back to London really, and I feel like she’d just be bitchy about it. 

I can’t go to Snow either, not yet, and even if I did, I wouldn’t move back in with him before we started dating. We’ve been roommates before. It wasn’t great.

I won’t be a burden to Dev and Niall. 

So I suppose I’ll just…

Stay here.

And wait.

Wait for the courage to talk to Simon Snow.

Wait for the pain I feel in my chest from being here and not at Lamb’s to stop. 

**…**

Some time between two episodes, I fell asleep. I don’t usually take naps, but I didn’t sleep much tonight and boredom is tiring.

When I wake up, the sky is dark, and I see Lamb’s name on my phone.

[8:47 pm] : **_Have you eaten today? If not, order something or boil yourself some pasta. I don’t want you to start neglecting yourself because I’m not watching over you._ **

The message makes my heart hurt a little more, but in a good way, I think.

He _is_ still watching over me, even if we’re apart.

But fuck, I hate this.

I don’t want to be alone, and I don’t want to be alone _here_.

I take my phone, and call his number.

It rings for a while, and then, “Hello?”

“I can’t do this.”

“Baz…”

“No, listen to me please. I just… I hate this place. I only have memories of pain and loneliness here. I don’t… I know myself. If I say stuck here alone I will… The shop right at the corner of the street sells alcohol, Lamb. I don’t… Even if I start courting Simon, I’ll still be here alone most of the time and it’s driving me crazy just thinking about it. Please let me come back. I don’t want to get back together, I just don’t want to be alone. I’ll sleep in the guest room or whatever. Please just let me come back home.”

He sighs. “Alright, you can come. But don’t go and blame me if it causes you trouble when you try getting Simon back.”

“If Simon isn’t happy with me _living_ with you he can go fuck himself.”

I’ll explain it to him. I’ll tell him _why_ I’d rather be with Lamb than at my flat. He will understand. I’m sure he will. His jealousy can be a bit of a problem sometimes, but ultimately, I know his desire for me to be okay outweighs it.

Lamb chuckles. “I’m waiting for you. Don’t get lost on your way.”

I roll my eyes. “This flat is literally a five minutes walk from ours.”

“Many things can happen in five minutes. You might encounter a dangerous vampire. Those creatures come out at night,” he says, amusement in his voice.

The man finds himself hilarious. It’s exhausting. 

“You’re an idiot. I don’t know why I like you.”

“Big talk for someone who just begged me to let him live with me.”

Touché. 

“Hush.”

**…**

**Lamb**

I can’t say I was expecting this, but I can’t say I’m surprised either. Loneliness is extremely difficult for Baz, and not to brag, but I know he needs me. He relies on me a lot, which probably isn’t the best thing for him, but who am I to push him away when he needs me?

That poor boy hasn’t had many people in his life he felt he could rely on. I’m not going to take that away from him. He’s so young still. Of course he still needs help. After decades and decades, he’ll toughen up, become more independent. 

For now he can still be fragile. 

That’s a perk of immortality. Time is an inconvenience for mortals. Because their life has an expiration date, they have to do so much, in so little time. Two decades are nothing to me, it seems crazy that from the moment they’re born, mortals have to act like fully grown adults _before_ they’re even two decades old. 

Baz is still living with that mindset.

He rushes through some things, like a human would, probably because he has been raised by mortals and like a mortal. He needs to let himself be vulnerable, but he doesn’t want to because for mortals, it’s considered childish for someone his age to be vulnerable. Only when he’s with me does he let himself go.

I think that being with me unconsciously reminds him that he’s immortal. That he has all the time in the world. That he can be young and fragile. 

He brings me back to reality when he opens the door. 

I blink, and look up at him. 

He has this suitcase that he filled this morning in hand, and his shoes are already off. He puts his coat on the rack before he looks back at me. 

“Hey.”

“Hey. I changed the sheets in the guest room, you won’t have to complain about them not being soft enough.”

“Wow, you made the bed for me. Such a good housewife you are,” he mocks me as he walks towards me, leaving his suitcase in the entrance. 

I glare at him.

“Ungrateful brat. I shouldn’t have let you come back.”

He scoffs. “You like me too much to say no to me,” he says with a smile. 

He collapses on the armrest of my armchair, something I told him not to do a million times, but I guess he can’t sit on my lap instead anymore.

“Hm. Whatever. You haven’t answered my message, have you eaten today?”

He doesn’t answer, but he looks sheepish. 

Of course.

I sigh. “You’re impossible.”

“I wasn’t hungry,” he argues.

“That’s not a reason. Waiting to be starving to eat isn’t healthy, I think I’ve already told you that.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s just one day, don’t be dramatic.”

**…**

**Baz**

Still, I follow him to the kitchen, because he’s decided on not letting me go to bed with an empty stomach. 

I sit on the counter as he scrambles some eggs for me.

“Tell me about your mate.”

He pauses. 

“Why are you asking me that?”

I shrug. “I’m just curious. I told you everything there is to know about Simon, but I know nothing about her. Even when you told me about mates you didn’t tell me about _your_ mate. I don’t mind if you don’t want to talk about it, but if you’re comfortable sharing, I’d like to know about her.”

He pours the eggs in the pan.

“No, it’s alright. Don’t judge me if I get emotional, though. She was very dear to me. She still is.”

Even after so many years…

I don’t know if it’s beautiful or tragic.

“After I was Turned,” he continues, his eyes fixed on his cooking. “I flew the UK. I went to France for a little while, because it was the closest country across the English Channel but I didn’t like it, so I went south, to Spain instead. I had the chance to meet a man there, who was British too, and since I didn’t speak a word of Spanish, I stayed with him. I suppose I made him homesick, because he decided to go back to England shortly after. I followed him, and that’s how I met Sybil. On the day after we returned to London, he took his sister to a seamstress, and that seamstress was Sybil. Things immediately clicked between us. We had known each other for 30 minutes, but I felt like we were lifelong friends. I visited her often after that, and our affection only grew. She was witty, and not afraid to speak her mind. It surprised me so much. The only women I’d ever been around were my mother and the girls my parents made me meet when they wanted to marry me, and they were all quiet and submissive. Sybil wasn’t like that. She was loud and obstinate. She was hot blooded and provocative. She was everything most people hated in a woman. It was thrilling, being with her, that’s what drew me to her, but unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one attracted to her subversive character. Another man was too, William.”

He turns the stove off, and asks me to grab a plate. I hand it to him, and hold it while he puts the eggs in it. 

I stay perched on the counter to eat, while Lamb leans against it next to me. 

“She fell in love with him, right?” I ask, glancing at him.

He crosses his arms on his chest. “She did. She loved me like a friend, nothing more. And I was fine with that. Sure, I ached for more, but in the end, I just wanted her to be in my life, and if it was as a friend, well, I didn’t mind. She married William a few months after meeting him, and I have to admit, it was hard to bear. Seeing a woman I knew deep in my core was meant to be mine choose someone else…” He lets out a sigh, which is more telling than any words he could have said. “But still, I bore it, because ultimately, all I wanted for her was her happiness. If William made her happy, well, I was happy too. I was heartbroken, but still happy for her. What was really hard though… It was a year and a half after that, when she died in childbirth.” 

I can’t help it, I gasp. 

Lamb chuckles bitterly. “It was rather common at the time, much, _much_ more than it is now, but somehow I never considered it would happen to her. I was naive, I never thought any harm would come to her. To me, she would live decades and decades, and she would die old, and satisfied with the life she had had. When she died so young, my world turned upside down. First, I was angry. Rage was all I could feel for _weeks_ , a burning rage directed at myself, because I could not save her. It was stupid, I could never have Turned her without her consent, and there was no way I could have told her about my vampirism. We never had a good reputation, but it was so much worse in the past. She’d have thought I was crazy. But being angry helped me cope, and it was better than what I felt after. Or rather, what I _didn’t_ feel after. I was completely numb. The still idealized vision I had of life, despite the horrors I’d seen, had been destroyed. _I_ had been destroyed. When Sybil was snatched away from me, life lost everything that made it worth living. The world around me had no colours, every piece of music I heard sounded the same, the food I ate had no taste. Existing without her was a long, seemingly never ending agony. Losing her was like losing a part of myself. I felt like half of my heart had _literally_ been ripped out of my chest and I had been left bleeding out. I think the sorrow would have killed me, if I _could_ die. But it didn’t. I survived. It took me a long, very long time, but I got back on my feet. Her death was still an open wound, though. To be honest, it hasn’t truly closed. Whenever I hear the name Sybil, or see someone who looks a bit like her, my heart skips. She died more than 150 years ago, but there are days when it still feels like it was yesterday that I found out she had passed. I sometimes have nightmares about it.”

Silent tears are falling down his cheeks, and his hands are clenched around the edge of the counter. It breaks my heart. Lamb is so strong, I never saw him looking so distressed, let alone crying. I’m not sure what to do to comfort him, so I just put my hand over his, rubbing circles on his skin the way he did when he was the one comforting me. 

“I’m sorry.”

He draws his other hand up, to wipe his wet cheeks. 

“It’s okay. It’s just how it is. If anything, let my story be a lesson to you. If you know deep down that Simon is the one for you, don’t waste your time or your chances. You are so lucky to be loved back by him. I would have given _everything_ for that to be true about Sybil and I. So many of us have unrequited mates, you’re one of the few lucky ones, who actually have a chance to spend forever with the person they love most. You _can’t_ jeopardize that, I’d actually be angry with you if you lost a single second you could spend getting Simon back being all sappy about you and I. We weren’t meant to be, but the two of you are,” he says, giving me a fierce look that makes me laugh through my nose. 

He shifts, until he’s standing in front of me, his hands on my knees and his eyes boring into mine.

“No, but seriously Baz. Life is such a fragile thing, for mortals, you don’t know what could happen. Accidents happen. Illnesses can be so unexpected. And believe me, you don’t want to live every day of your existence with the knowledge that the other half of your heart is lost forever. It’s… I suppose you remember how you felt, when he broke up with you.”

I snort. How could I _not_ remember.

“Vividly.”

“If he dies, it will be a million times worse. You don’t want to put yourself through that.”

“You say _if_ he dies as if he was never going to…”

It’s something that has haunted me since Lamb confirmed that vampires are immortal, just like the legends say.

Someday, Simon Snow will die, and I’ll keep living.

Unless…

“Maybe he won’t. You know that there is a simple enough solution to keep him with you forever.”

I know and it makes me mildly sick thinking about it.

“Yes,” I answer bitterly, pushing bits of eggs around my plate with my fork. “Kill him. Make him a monster.”

Lamb shakes his head softly.

“It wouldn’t be killing him. We’re not _dead_ Baz. Dead people don’t eat and breathe and talk and walk. And we’re not monsters either. I know it’s still hard to accept for you, God knows it was for me, but being a vampire… it’s really not as awful as you make it out to be. Sure, there are some major inconvenients, but all things considered, it’s not that bad of an existence. And it _is_ something you will have to discuss with Simon, someday. I’m sure he’d rather be young forever with you than grow old and leave you behind when he dies. But let’s not talk about this now. You two have _many_ thing to figure out before this even comes close to being a topic you have to broach,” he says patting my knee. “I’m going to bed now, I’m exhausted. Don’t sneak in my room.”

He gives me a smirk when he says that, and I kick his leg.

“Fuck off. You’d love it if I sneaked in your room.”

“I never said I wouldn’t,” he answers with a wink. 

I roll my eyes, laughing softly, as he crosses the kitchen to leave it.

“Oh and Baz?” he says when he reaches the doorframe, turning around with an irritating smile on his face.

“What?”

“Eat your fucking food instead of playing with it.”

**…**

Later, when I’m lying alone in bed, parts of the conversations I had with Lamb, both yesterday and today, come back to me. The parts about Simon. About how I shouldn’t waste any time, which is a strange piece of advice from Lamb. He’s always telling me how I have all the time I could possibly need, since I’m immortal.

But Simon isn’t.

So time is still something precious for us.

It’s still something to value.

And to fear.

**…**

**Baz :** _Hey Snow. How would you feel about spending your lunch break with me tomorrow?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t let go of Lamb yet and neither could Baz


	42. Chapter Forty Two

**Simon**

I’m jittery all morning. 

Baz wants to have lunch with me.

We haven’t had lunch together in forever, because usually, we see each other in the afternoon, so this is exciting. Besides, he didn’t say what the lunch was, so I’m curious about that too. I just hope he won’t drag me to one of those fancy restaurants he loves so much. I’m _not_ paying the equivalent of a full cart of groceries for a single meal that won’t even be that filling. 

By the time he shows up in front of the shop, Nancy is is one impatient glance at the clock away from murdering me. 

“You’re the worst,” she tells me as I jump from the cardboard box I was sitting on. “Why are you so excited anyway, it’s just lunch.”

“But it’s lunch with _Baz_ , Nancy,” I answer, giggling. “Which makes it so much more than just lunch.”

She rolls her eyes. “You people in love are disgusting.”

“Hush, you’re just jealous. Bye bye boss!” I chant, waving at her as I push the door open.

I don’t miss the smile on her lips when she shakes her head. “Bye Simon.”

I turn around, and there he is.

Baz, as gorgeous as always.

He’s still wearing his winter coat, because as long as it’s not insanely hot outside, he’s too cold to wear anything else. He also has put on those jeans that make his arse look absolutely incredible. It probably isn’t a detail I should have even noticed, we’re, to my greater dismay, _just friends_ , but I have eyes and I’m _very_ attracted to him. It’s not my fault I notice his arse looks great. 

To make things worse, because I’m sure it’s calculated, everything that bastard does is, he’s put his hair up -it’s _finally_ long enough to be out up again-, in that messy way that leaves strands falling around his face. I could faint. It’s so hot. It reminds me of how he used to tie his hair up with his wand, when he was doing homework, biting his pen and furrowing his eyebrows as he focused.

Yet he’s so different from the Baz who scribbled essay after essay, bent over his desk at Watford. He’s kinder. Less tense.

His smiles are warmer.

I smile back.

“Hey! What’s gotten into you? I was so surprised when I saw your text,” I say as I _almost_ reach to kiss his cheeks.

Fuck Olivia and her nasty habits.

Fuck _me_ for wanting to kiss Baz, in any way I can, so much.

 _He’s not mine anymore, he’s not mine anymore, he’s not mine anymore_.

Maybe if I keep telling myself it, I’ll believe it. It hasn’t worked yet.

“I just wanted to see you,” he answers, with this voice that tells me this isn’t all.

I don’t like this. Why would Baz something from me, especially the reason why he asked to have lunch with me? 

Oh my God, is he going to tell me something terrible?

Maybe he’s going to tell me he’s marrying Lamb? Vampires mate for life, he confirmed in his book -of course I read his book, I don’t like reading, but _Baz_ wrote it- that that was true. Maybe he and Lamb want to stay together forever. 

I mean, it does seem like a nice choice. If _I_ was a vampire that couldn’t die, I’d settle for another immortal, not someone who’s going to grow old and die. 

I chase that thought before it can tie a knot in my throat.

Baz haz been with Lamb for what? 6 months? Maybe 7? He wouldn’t propose so soon. It took me over a year to propose to _me._

“Snow?”

His voice startles me. “What? Sorry I was lost in my thoughts.”

“I could see that. I was asking where you wanted to eat? Don’t worry about the price, I’m paying.”

“You’re not paying for me.”

Two and a half years. Two and a half years since I first went to a restaurant with him, and he _still_ hasn’t understood that I hate it when he spends his money for me. He’s insufferable. Annoying fucking rich kid.

“Yes I am,” he answers with a glint in his eyes. “That’s how dates work, Snow.”

**…**

**Baz**

I think I’ve broken him. 

He’s staring at me, eyes wide and lips parted, blinking, visibly confused.

“You… You’re taking me on a date?” he whispers, as if he couldn’t believe it.

“I am, if you’d like to be taken on a date.”

“I… Baz… Fuck, of course I’d like that, you prick,” he says, shaking his head, probably to clear his thoughts.

Or rather, his lack of thoughts.

I’m still not convinced Simon Snow ever had a single thought in that thick head of his.

“Maybe you could start by not insulting me?” I say, though I’m sure he can hear the amusement in my voice.

I’d be more surprised if I interacted with Snow and he didn’t insult me once than if he did it in the midst of having sex -well, if he did it in the midst of having sex for reasons other than turning me on. 

…Maybe I shouldn’t think about having sex with him. I don’t know how long it will take us to get there, and in the meantime, all I have is my hand.

“Yeah, sorry,” he says, red blooming on his cheeks. “And about the food, I really don’t care. Just take me wherever you want.”

“I’m asking you where you want to eat, Snow. Come on, there must be something you’re craving.”

He’s _always_ craving something.

He seems to think about, and then, as he slips his hands inside the pockets of his jacket “Well, I wouldn’t be against sushi.”

I know he doesn’t like buying sushi because he doesn’t find it, so he has to order a lot and it gets expensive. It’s a little pleasure he only indulges himself with rarely.

“Sushi it is, then. Do you know a restaurant around here or should I look it up?”

“Uh, look it up please. I haven’t really explored the area, except for the streets I walk to go back home.”

Typical Snow. Of course he would work somewhere for months and not even take the time to wander around, get familiar with the place.

**…**

**Simon**

I try to get myself to realize what is happening as Baz takes out his phone.

We’re going on a date.

A _date_.

But…

“Uh, Baz, what about Lamb though? Last time I checked you were dating him.”

He wouldn’t be dating us both at the same time, right? That wouldn’t be a very nice thing to do.

“We broke up,” he answers, not looking up from his phone.

“Oh. Uh. I’m sorry?”

I don’t sound very convinced of what I’m saying, but in my defense, he is the love of my life and I’ve kind of been waiting for this for months.

I probably shouldn’t be so happy about it, Baz must be hurt -it wasn’t pleasant breaking up with Olivia, and I wasn’t even in love with her or anything- but _fuck,_ Baz is free. And he wants to _go on a date with me_.

He might be mine again soon.

It’s like bloody fireworks are exploding in my chest.

“I know for a fact that you’re not sorry. Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” he answers, deadpans, as he types something on his phone.

“I was just trying to be polite,” I mumble.

“Snow. You spent an entire year accusing me of being a vampire in front of the whole school. You called my aunt a bitch under your breath while she was in the next room on three separate occasions. You’re literally the rudest person I know.”

“Fuck you.”

He looks up at me, raising one of his annoying eyebrows. “See, rude.”

I flip him off, and he snorts, before going back to his research.

**…**

I’m sitting at a restaurant, in front of Baz Pitch, watching him -flawlessly, of course- eat his food with chopsticks, and I think it might kill me.

He’s so lovely.

We’ve been talking about futile things since the beginning of the meal, none of us wanting to broach the serious topics, and I’m quite happy with that.

It’s good to be with Baz like this, seeing him relax. He looks so much more beautiful when he doesn’t have a worried line on his forehead and his lips don’t twitch like they always do when he hears something difficult. 

I’ve finished my own food long ago, but despite the fact that he ordered less than me, his plate is still mostly full. Baz has always been weird with food. Probably because he doesn’t need it as much as a normal person and because for years he never ate in front of anyone. 

“Can I steal one of your sushi?”

He points his chopsticks at me. “It’s not stealing if you ask. And yes, you can, but only if you can move the sushi from my plate to your mouths with the chopsticks without dropping it.”

**…**

**Baz**

He looks at me like I’ve just killed his best friend.

Moron. Of course he would look this betrayed because he thinks I might not let him eat my food.

“Baz, you know I can’t use these things! I can _barely_ manage a fork,” he groans, because he’s a child.

“Yes, I know. Come on, I want to see you try.”

“You’re the worst person I know and I hate you,” he says, pouting.

**…**

**Simon**

“You sure do,” he answer with a cocky smile, that bastard.

He rests his hands on either side of his plate -keeping his elbows off the table, because apparently that’s more proper, Daphne always scolded the kids about that- waiting for me to take something out of it.

I try, and fail, to take the chopstick in hand the same way he did, under his mocking gaze. I somehow manage to pick one of the sushi up, and start slowly bringing it on my side of the table, making sure it doesn’t go over one of our glasses in case it falls, and I’m really close to my mouth when I fuck up. The chopstick slip in my hand, letting the sushi go. It falls on the edge of my place, stays balanced for a second, then tumbles on the table.

“Well, that was pathetic,” Baz comments -arsehole- as he takes back his chopsticks and -obviously- picks the sushi up, without trouble - _obviously._

I expect him to just eat it, but instead, he looks at me expectantly.

When I frown, he rolls his eyes.

“Open up, Snow. I’m going to feed you since you’re able to do something as simple as using chopsticks.”

I glare at him, but I do open my mouth, leaning over the table so that he won’t have to stretch his arms too much.

I feel my cheeks turn red when he brings the sushi to my mouth, his other hand under my chin, not touching it but not too far from it, in case some food falls when I bite it.

My lips close around the sushi, and Baz retreats almost immediately, cleaning his chopstick on his napkin. “There’s your saliva on my chopstick now,” he says, sounding annoyed, even though it was his idea.

“It wouldn’t be the first time my saliva is in your mouth,” I shoot back, because honestly, who does he think he’s kidding.

Besides, he had much grosser things of mine in his mouth, and I didn’t see him complain.

He gives me that very familiar looks that roughly means ‘ _Shut up, Snow_ ’.

He doesn’t answer verbally though, instead, he takes the chopstick he hasn’t cleaned yet, and put it near his mouth, _licking it clean._

I can’t keep my eyes off his tongue. That devilish tongue, that he’s so good with, in so many different contexts.

I particularly liked it when it was licking my…

My whole face burns, and Baz says with a smirk, “You’re right, I’ve already had your saliva in my mouth, after all.”

Then he puts the chopstick back down, and, because apparently he has decided to _fucking kill me_ , he wipes the tiny bit of spit that got on his bottom lip when he licked the chopstick with his tongue.

His lips, God, those fucking lips.

They also did wonders around my…

I bury my face in my hands.

“I fucking hate you.”

“No you don’t, love.”

“ _Fuck you_ ,” I groan, looking back at him with irritation in my eyes, because who the fuck does he think he is, calling me _love_ after doing that thing with his tongue and touching his fucking lip like that.

He gives me another smirk, because that’s all the bastard ever fucking does, as he raises his hands just enough to tug on his hair tie.

Black locks falls in waves around his face, beautifully, like he’s some fucking Disney princess, just as he says something that a Disney princess definitely wouldn’t, looking at me with those moon grey eyes that make me so weak, “You wish.”

**…**

**Baz**

Snow kicks my leg under the table. Brute.

“Stop that!” he says, sounding irritated.

I give him an innocent smile, resting my chin on the top of my hand “Stop what?”

“Being a prick. Seducing me.”

 _Seducing me_. I snort.

“I think the seducing has been done long ago. I’m not seducing you, Snow, I’m torturing you. It’s not the same.”

He looks at me like he used to when I glanced over his shoulder as he did homework and told him it was all wrong.

“You’re a horrible person.”

I pick up another sushi, that I eat slowly and swallow quite theatrically -Simon’s eyes are on my throat as I do- before I answer, “So you’ve been telling me since we were 11. I think I’ve gotten the message by now.”

“Well apparently not since you still act like that.”

“That’s because tormenting you brings me the greatest joy, Snow.”

He clicks his tongue “Don’t call me that. You weren’t calling me Snow that much anymore, why are you doing it again?”

It took him long enough to say something about it.

“Getting called Simon is a privilege you haven’t earned yet, love.”

He looks like he’s going to explode. He looks like he did right before he threw insults at me, back when we shared a room at the top of a tower. 

He’s stunning.

“And _stop_ calling me that. God, you’re so annoying.”

“But I thought you liked me calling you love…” I say as I lean back into my chair. 

“I liked it when you were my boyfriend. Right now you’re _not_ my boyfriend and you’re only calling me that to be annoying and I hate it,” he mumbles, with the same voice as Cordelia when she throws a tantrum.

“Alright, I’ll stop,” I saw with a gentle voice, giving him a small smile. “But I’m not calling you Simon yet.”

“Of course you’re not. Prick.”

I smile wider.

**…**

“Baz, let me pay for my food,” Snow says as we get the bill. 

“No. I told you, it’s a date. I’m the one who initiated the date. I pay for the date,” I answer as I take my credit card out. “If you want to pay for something so bad…” I look up at him, the corners of my lips curled up. “You can always take me on a second date.”

The idea seems to appeal to him. His eyes are gleaming. 

“Yeah, I think I’m going to do that,” he says, unable to contain the excitement in his voice. He’s like a puppy wagging its tail. “I’ll text you to let you know.”

I can’t wait.

**…**

**Simon**

Ever the gentleman, he walks me back to the book shop. We arrive there barely 5 minutes before I’m supposed to get back to work, which is much later than I usually would, but is still not late, thankfully. 

I’m not sure how I should say goodbye to him. Should I just _say_ goodbye? Do something stupid like shaking his hand? Am I allowed to kiss his cheeks? 

He takes the decision for me before I can lose my mind trying to figure it out.

He leans down - _three fucking inches_ taller but he makes it seem like so much more, somehow- and kiss my cheeks, making blood rush to them.

“You said that’s how Olivia and you said hello and goodbye, right?” he says as he hasn’t moved back yet, his lips close to my ear.

It makes me shiver.

His voice, goddamn.

Is there _one_ thing about that bastard that isn’t insanely attractive?

“Yeah, it is,” I answer, a little breathless.

He pats my shoulder. “Goodbye Snow. I’ll be waiting for your text most impatiently.”

**…**

**Lamb**

About 10 seconds after he opened the door, he’s collapsing on the couch, a lovestruck smile on his lips and a dreamy look in his eyes.

“He’s amazing, Lamb. I’m so in love.”

“I can see that. I assume your date went well, then?”

He nods excitedly. “ _Yes._ ”

“He’s so, so lovely. Merlin, how did I ever go this long without being with him like that. The way he looked at me, Lamb… It’s like the minute I told him it was a date, he allowed himself to look at me like he used to again. It could have killed me. He makes me feel like I’m the most beautiful person in the world. And he blushed so much when I flirted with him. I think I might die.”

He doesn’t look like he ‘might die’, no, he looks drunk.

Drunk on love. 

**…**

**Simon** : so, i thought that for our next date we should wait for the weekend, since, you know, I work all week. so... how about this saturday? or do you want to wait more? Because I don’t really want to wait, but it’s up to you

 **Baz** : Saturday sounds perfect. 

**Simon** : great!!!!!!!!😁 i’ll call you when i’ll have figured out what to do lol xxx

**…**

**Simon** : PENELOPE!!!!!!!!!!

 **Penny** : What?

 **Simon** : I’M DYING BAZ TOOK ME ON A DATE AND WE’RE GOING ON ANOTHER THIS WEEKEND OMG OMG OMG 

**Penny** : Really??

 **Simon** : YES. I’M GONNA DIE PENNY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AND HE WANTS ME BACK, FUCKING FINALLY

 **Penny** : I’m happy for you Si, but try not to rush into this like you did the first time, okay? You were the one who said you took things too quickly.

 **Simon** : yeah yeah, i know i’ll be careful, can we skip the part where you act like mum and directly go to the part where you match my excitement because in case you didn’t get it I’M GOING ON DATES WITH THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!!!!!!!!!!


	43. Chapter Forty Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this chapter to post it tomorrow but then I got carried away, wrote the whole thing, and since I have no patience, I’m posting it now...

**Simon**

It takes me two days -and conversations with Olivia because she’s better at dates than I am- to find something that would be nice for my date with Baz on Saturday without boring either of us to death -we do have very different interests-, but once I know, I don’t wait a minute more to call him. Make it official that we’re going on a date.

A date, God, it’s still hard to believe that Baz wants to go on dates with me.

His voice comes through the phone. “Hello?” 

“Hey! So I’m calling about Saturday.”

“What about Saturday?” he asks, pretending not to understand. 

Christ, he always has to make things difficult, doesn’t he?

“You know what I’m talking about, Baz. Anyway, I’m going to need your address. I want to come and wait for you instead of you having to come all the way to my place.”

And if I’m being honest, I’m curious to see what Baz’s flat looks like in broad daylight and when I’m not crying my eyes out because of a nasty nightmare, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

“You already know my address,” he says with that voice that makes me feel stupid. 

“Er, no I don’t.”

Does he expect me to remember his address from that one time when I came _at night_ still feeling jittery from my earlier state of panic? I don’t have his magic brain that remembers things super easily.

“Snow, you’ve come here a million times.”

I frown. “No, I haven’t. I only went to your flat once? Are you drunk or something?”

He clears his throat. 

“I… I don’t live in my flat, Snow.”

“What do you mean? Where do you live then?”

There’s a silence, and that’s when it hit me.

But no, that _can’t_ be—

“You’re kidding. You live with _Lamb_?”

“Yes,” he says, like this is a perfectly normal thing.

Like he doesn’t see the bloody problem.

“You’re not fucking serious,” I say, trying to control the irritation that is growing inside of me. 

“I am, actually.”

So he _doesn’t_ see the fucking problem.

My hand clenches around my phone.

“Baz. You’re telling me that while you are going on dates with _me,_ you are also living with your _fucking_ ex?”

“Yes? Do you have a problem with that?” he asks, sounding annoyed.

As if _he_ was the one who should be getting annoyed right now! The audacity of this motherfucker.

“Yes, Baz, of course I have a problem with that! Jesus Christ, I don’t care if the two of you stay friends or not, but living with him? Honesty? Don’t you think you’re exaggerating a _little_ bit?”

More than a little bit.

“No. Why do you care if I live with him anyway?”

Is he being dense on purpose? 

“Why do I care? Maybe because I don’t know, weeks ago, maybe days ago, the two of you were fucking? Because even if you’ve broken up, the feelings you had for one another haven’t suddenly disappeared? How could you think _for a second_ I’d be okay with you living with him?”

Baz has brought up my jealousy often, and I _know_ that I can get a little too jealous sometimes, but honestly, I don’t think I’m in the wrong for thinking this is too much, this time. When _I_ broke up with my ex, I stopped living at her goddamn place. That’s just the normal thing to do. 

“Good thing I’m not asking for your permission, then,” he says coldly.

He really makes me feel like _I’m_ the one being irrational and it makes me even more angry. 

I just don’t want the boy dating me to live with the bloke he just stopped dating, is it that crazy of a request?

“Baz— It’s not that. Of course you don’t need my permission to do things, but I’d assume that if you want to date me you’d _respect_ me a little?”

He scoffs. “I do respect you.”

“You live with your ex! No you fucking don’t! Do you really _not_ understand what’s wrong about this?”

“No. I’m just _living_ with him, Snow, we aren’t fucking or anything. You should know that two people can live together without having sex, we did it for years,” he snarls.

God, I hate him so much. 

“But the thing is, you fucked him for _months,_ you can’t compare the situations, Baz! Besides, you literally own a flat where you could go to, why the fuck would you stay with him?”

“Because I need him!” he shouts back and the words feel like a slap in the face.

_I need him._

I thought…

He said it was a date, he said he’d broken up with Lamb, he seemed willing to get back together with me…

Then _why_ the fuck is he now telling me he needs _Lamb_?

“Well, forget about Saturday, then. Forget about this whole fucking thing if you need _Lamb_.”

I hang up without giving him time to answer -what could he say anyway?- and throw my phone on the bed in anger. It bounces, but thankfully, doesn’t fall.

Why would he make me believe that we could… that we may… 

It’s so fucking _cruel._

My hands ball around the hair over my ears. 

_Fucking prick._

**…**

**Baz**

“Snow? Snow? _Simon?_ ” I call, pointlessly.

I know he has hung up. 

I craddle my phone against my chest, trying -unsuccessfully- to ignore the pain I feel there. 

_Forget Saturday, then._

I was so excited about Saturday… And now he doesn’t want to see me anymore just because I live with Lamb... 

**…**

**Simon** : i know you said i shouldn’t involve you in my and baz’s business because we’re both your friends and you don’t want to have to pick sides (because we both know you’d pick baz’s no matter what) and blah blah blah but FUCK HIM HONESTLY

 **Niall** : first of all, I’m sighing at you heavily, please note that. secondly, I don’t want to get involved anymore because I’m tired that the both of you always come complaining to ME instead of being ADULTS and talking to EACH OTHER, not because I’d side with Baz. If he was really wrong, I wouldn’t. third thing : I’m going to make the two of you fucking pay me if you continue acting like I’m your therapist/couples counselor. Lastly… what happened this time?

 **Simon** : HE LIVES WITH LAMB

 **Niall** : ...Si. you already knew that

 **Simon** : wait he hasn’t told you?

 **Niall** : told me what?

 **Simon** : that motherfucker. he really wasn’t serious about any of this. fuck. FUCK HIM. 

**Niall** : care to explain?

 **Simon** : i’m calling you. i can’t type right now

**…**

**Baz**

There’s knocking on my door, and then, after I allowed him to, Lamb comes in.

“I heard you scream. I just wanted to make sure everything’s alright,” he says, as his eyes scan me. 

“Everything is _not_ alright,” I answer, chuckling bitterly. 

He walks up to the bed, and climbs on it next to me, carefully avoiding the book I put down on it when I grabbed my phone. 

“What happened?”

“Simon called to tell me about our date on Saturday… well, the date we _should have_ gone on on Saturday. He got mad when I told him I lived with you, and he cancelled,” I answer, looking down at my fingers, which are tapping the back of my phone.

Lamb sighs. “I told you it might cause you trouble with Simon to live here, Baz,” he says as he slides his hand behind my back, rubbing circles between my shoulder blades.

“But _why_ ? What’s so terrible about me living with you? Fuck, he even said I didn’t _respect_ him because I live here! If he had just… If he had just _listened_ to me instead of hanging up on me like he did…”

“What did you say to make him hang up on you?”

There’s surprise in his voice, as if he couldn’t believe Simon would just… hang up. Which is just proof that he doesn’t know Simon Snow at all. It’s such a Snow reaction to hang up the minute I say something he doesn’t like, it’s almost comical. 

I draw my knees up, bending them far enough from my body to lean in and rest my arms on them, and my chin on my arms, my phone sliding down my jumper until it falls on the bed. 

“That I needed you,” I answer under my breath.

He sighs again. “Oh, Baz.”

**…**

**Niall**

“So,” I say as I pick up. “What happened?”

Dev is casting curious glances at me, but I gesture to him to keep doing his thing -he’s cutting the vegetables for dinner, dinner is important. 

I stand up from the chair I was sitting on, and notice that Dev is still looking at me. I mouth _‘Simon’_ , before exiting the kitchen, listening to the voice coming through my phone.

“We went on a date on Monday.”

What the fuck?

Since when are these two doing the whole dating thing again? Why didn’t I hear about this before?

“And I was supposed to take him on another on Saturday,” Simon continues, as I start pacing around my living room. I can hear his anger ringing in his voice. His hands were probably shaking too much to type. “So I called him to talk about that, the date, and that’s when I found out that he bloody lives with Lamb. I… And he didn’t even tell you about our first date, so _clearly_ , he wasn’t serious about wanting to date me and was just fucking playing me.”

Aleister Crowley, how do these two always manage to put themselves in those shitty situations?

“Listen, Si, I don’t think Baz was lying to you. He wouldn’t do that. He still loves you, he wouldn’t intentionally hurt you. I understand that things seem to lead to that conclusion, but you also tend to jump to conclusions a bit too fast, don’t you think? Baz probably didn’t tell me about you and him because if it didn’t work, me asking about how it’s going would hurt him. As for why he lives with Lamb… I have to admit I don’t understand that. Have you asked him why?”

“That’s the tragic fucking part,” Simon spits out. “He said he lives with Lamb because he _needs him._ That fucker takes me on dates but he needs Lamb. How fucking ridiculous. I hate him so much, Niall.”

Baz Pitch, you complete moron.

Crowley what have I done to deserve friends like this. Couldn’t I have friends like _me_ who just live their peaceful life without doing something stupid every few weeks to keep things exciting?

“Ok, so I understand why you’re angry, but have you talked to Baz about it? Given him a chance to explain himself? You more than anyone else should know that sometimes you blurt out words and they don’t exactly mean what you want them to mean, or you say something completely different than what you wanted to say?”

That’s such bullshit.

When we started flirting, if Dev told me to my face he needed someone else, nonetheless someone he _had just dated_ , I’d have gone mad. 

“What else could he have meant?” Simon says, and he sounds hurt.

I sigh. “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know what to tell you about all of this, except _talk to him_ , but since you seem unable to do that… I’ll call him, alright?” 

“God, yes, please, thank you Niall.”

I roll my eyes, a smile on my lips. He’s ridiculous. They’re both ridiculous. It’s a shame I ended up with those messes as my closest friends. 

“ _But_ ,” I add. “This is the _last time_ I get involved in your business, and I mean it this time, alright? Next time something happens, I don’t want to hear about it unless it has already been solved. You _have_ to solve your problems on your own. Do _I_ call you or Baz whenever I have a fight with Dev? No, I don’t think I do. And why is that? Because even when we’re being stubborn arseholes, we always end up talking to one another. _Communicating._ You two should learn to do the same thing.”

“Yeah, I know,” Simon says, and I can practically see his shoulders drop. “It’s just… It’s so _difficult_ with him. He makes me so angry sometimes, and then I start yelling and when I start yelling he becomes even more of a prick and it always leads to nothing.”

The kitchen door opens. I ignore it.

“That’s what you have to work on. Not yelling, even when he makes you angry. Now, I’m going to hang up, okay? It’s getting late and I’d really like not to spend the entire evening playing couples counselor for Baz and you. My husband and I had plans, mind you.”

Such lovely plans...

Simon laughs softly. 

“Sorry again, Niall. Really. I’m sorry we’re such messes.”

He sighs, a heavy, tired sigh that makes me regret my comments. 

I don’t _actually_ mind helping them too much. I’d rather they come to me than they make each other feel miserable without saying anything and without trying to solve it. I just wish they _would_ try to solve it on their own. 

“It’s okay. But don’t be surprised if I send you a bill someday,” I say, hoping he’ll get I wasn’t being _that_ serious. 

“Alright.” 

He chuckles, and then hangs up.

I feel Dev’s arms wrap around my waist the moment I take my phone away from my ear.

He presses a kiss to the back of my neck.

“The children are fighting again?”

I laugh. “They are. I have to help them with their mess.”

“Pity,” Dev says, sneaking his hand under my shirt. He nuzzles the crook of my neck, breathing me in. “The food has to cook for 20 minutes. It was ideal to bend you over the kitchen table.”

“Ugh, don’t make me regret being a good friend.”

**…**

**Baz**

“Baz you fucking idiot,” Niall’s voice says the moment I pick up.

Crowley, Snow talked to him, didn’t he?

I didn’t want Niall and Dev to know for Snow and I yet…

“I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know why I’m calling. Why didn’t you tell me Simon and you had crossed the ‘just friends’ line?”

“I didn’t want to tell you unless we were actually together.”

Which turned out to be a brilliant fucking idea since I pissed off Snow and we probably _won’t_ be together as soon as we would have otherwise.

“Idiot. Now the important part ; why in Merlin’s name are you still living at Lamb’s if you’re trying to get Simon back? Have you lost your mind? How did you think Simon was going to react? And telling him that it’s because you need Lamb, honestly? Aren’t words supposed to be your thing? You could have been fucking careful with them.”

I breathe deeply through my nose. 

“I know I fucked up, alright? I shouldn’t have said it like that. But _still_ , Snow got so pissed when I told him I lived with Lamb…”

“Baz, of course he got pissed!” Niall interrupts me. He’s probably throwing the hand that isn’t holding his phone up in the air as he speaks. “You’re living with your ex! How would you feel if he lived with Olivia?”

“I wouldn’t care! As long as he was just _living_ with her and he had a reason why, I wouldn’t bloody care!”

I’m not exactly sure that’s true. I wouldn’t _ask_ him to stop living with her, but I probably wouldn’t like it very much. However, I wouldn’t make it as big of a deal as Snow did, and I wouldn’t cancel our date over it either. 

“And what’s _your_ reason for staying with Lamb? It’s not like you’ve got nowhere else to go, you have your flat. Hell, if you didn’t have it, you could have crashed here. So really, I’m with Simon on this one. I don’t get why you’d live with Lamb if you’re trying to date Simon. If you want to be with Lamb so bad just stay with him and don’t lead Simon on like that.”

 _Lead Simon on_.

I snort. As if. 

I’ve been in love with Simon Snow since I was _15 years old._ I would certainly _not_ be leading him on when I finally got a chance to be with him -again.

“I don’t… I want to be with Simon, Niall, but I… I _can’t_ leave Lamb yet. I tried going back to my own flat but I felt so uncomfortable and sad, it was awful, Niall. That’s why I’m living with Lamb. I don’t want to… I _can’t_ be alone.”

“So what? You were going to stay at Lamb’s place until your and Simon’s relationship had developed enough for you to move in with him?”

“Yes?”

“Baz. That was never a good solution. You should… There’s no reason you _can’t_ be alone. Go back to your flat. The adjustment might be a little troubling, but you _can_ do it.”

A lump forms in my throat just at the thought.

“Niall, no, I _can’t_ . You don’t get it, I just _literally_ can’t be alone. I’m… It scares me. I’ve never even ever lived alone, except for those weeks when Snow was missing in 8th year and for the time I spent at my flat after Snow broke up. Do I have to remind you what I did back then?” I ask, my voice harsh. 

I know it’s cruel to use my suicide attempt like that. Of course I know it. 

I can hear the catch in Niall’s breathing, before he gets a grip on himself.

“No, you don’t get to use _that._ All you want is to strike a chord so that I won’t lecture you on your bullshit, but guess what? That won’t bloody work. I never said anything about your relationship with Lamb while you were together because it seemed to be good for you, but if you can’t be separated from him then clearly you’ve taken this too far. I understand that you liked how he took care of you and that it was a relief for you to be able to rely on him, but relying on someone doesn’t mean you can’t function without them. You… You should approach your… relationship with Lamb the same way you do your friendship with Dev and I. You know we’re here if you need us, but we don’t have to be here, holding your hand through every step of your life. I know you can move out and live alone, Baz. I know it. You’re scared of it, but you _can_ do it. And you should do it, because it’s not good for you to cling to Lamb the way you do. _And_ it’s not good for your relationship with Simon. You’re not going to be able to fully commit to him if you’re still so attached to Lamb, Baz. You have to let go of him a little bit. Not completely, don’t start freaking you. I’m not telling you to cut him off your life. Simply… he has to have a less important place in it. And it’s _not_ a place you should clear just to give it to Simon. I love you Baz, I only want what’s best for you, and as it appears... I think that the best thing for you is to take some time for yourself before you dive into a relationship with Simon. Don’t jump from Lamb to Simon. You don’t _need_ someone to take care of you, Baz. You don’t, I promise you that you don’t. Yes, you can be a bit of a mess when you’re alone, but you’re never going to handle solitude better if you always avoid being confronted with it. Being alone isn’t going to kill you, and alone doesn’t mean _lonely_ , Baz. You can still hang out with Lamb even if you’re not living with him, but it has to be just that. Hanging out. It shouldn’t be all day long.”

He pauses.

Maybe it’s because he wants me to answer something.

I wouldn’t know what to answer. He’s said so much. 

“Baz?” he says after more than a minute of silence. “You still here mate?”

“Yes.”

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

He talks to me like I’m a child. I suppose I’m acting a bit like a child.

“Yes.”

“Are you going to do it? Move back in your flat?”

“I’m scared, Niall,” I say, my voice weak.

I know how fucking ridiculous it sounds, especially for someone my age, but I can’t help it.

“I know. But are you going to do it? And don’t say yes to please me. I don’t want you to do this for _me_ . I want you to do this for _yourself_. It’s scary now, but I’m sure it’ll lift a weight off your shoulders when you realize that you don’t need anyone.”


	44. Chapter Forty Four

**Baz**

Because I’m weak and pathetic and a complete disappointment and fucking useless, the moment Niall hangs up, I sneak out of my room and go find Lamb, wherever he may be after I chased him away when my phone rang.

I focus on what I can hear, and that is the sound of fingers typing on a keyboard quickly. The office then.

I don’t knock -he never said I had to- but yet, when I open the door, his eyes are already turned on me.

I walk in, and he pushes his rolling chair away from the desk.

“What did Niall want?”

I cross the distance between us, sitting on the floor in front of him. “He says it’s wrong that I live with you. He thinks I should go back to my flat. But I don’t want to be alone. He doesn’t understand that I don’t want to be alone. He’s… He’s not fucked up like me, he _can_ take care of himself, but when I’m alone I just… forget. It’s not even on purpose, I just don’t know how to take care of myself. The only reason I’m having three meals a day is because you’re here to make sure of it, I go to bed at a decent hour because _you_ do, the only thing I know how to do on my own is taking a bloody shower and even that I’m not capable of doing sometimes. And I _know_ that it’s fucking ridiculous but I don’t trust myself _with myself._ And I _couldn’t_ tell that to Niall because he would just say that that’s not true and that if I set my mind to it I would be able to take care of myself but I know it’s not true. When I lived alone I skipped so many meals and slept so little and just overall let myself go. I know that a lot of it was because of how bad my depression was of course, but even when I wasn’t in such a dark place, I still neglected myself. At school, I could go days without going down to the kitchens to get food, until I was too hungry to ignore it. I stayed up super late because I didn’t want to risk being in the room with Snow while he was awake and because I just generally had a hard time falling asleep. So how could I possibly go and be able to do all of this on my own _now_ when I’ve _never_ known how to? And it’s not just that I can’t take care of myself, I’m just so fucking scared of being alone. I don’t… I don’t want to feel like I felt when I was a kid ever again. I was so fucking lonely back then that I spent my whole time with my _dog_ so that at least I wouldn’t be completely alone. A bloody dog, Lamb. I was so desperate not to be alone I clung to a dog.”

And it helped. Even when my dad didn’t give a shit and my aunt wasn’t here, I didn’t feel so lonely because I was with my dog. He was my friend.

I started absentmindedly biting my nails as I talked. When I realize, I stop, looking up at Lamb.

He has a sad gleam in his eyes. 

“Oh Baz…” He slides down his chair, sitting on the floor in front of me, and reaches out to touch my knees. “Even if you went back to your flat, it wouldn’t be like when you were a child. You have friends you can text or visit if you’re starting to feel too lonely, they won’t reject you. The same applies to me, I told you so when you tried leaving the first time. I’d still be here for you. I wouldn’t suddenly stop caring for you or wanting to spend time with you just because you moved out. As for the rest… I suppose it’s something you have to learn. To take care of yourself, I mean. You’re a rather organized person, when you need to be, you could give yourself a schedule, with precise times when you’d have your meals and go to bed. If eating doesn’t come naturally to you because you don’t get hungry, make it a habit instead. If you repeat the same thing every day at the same time you’ll eventually get used to it and you won’t forget to do it anymore. You know I have friends who are vampires, and some of them had a hard time eating as well after they were Turned because they didn’t feel hunger the way they used to when they were mortal, and that’s what they did to still eat enough to keep their body working. If it worked for them, it might work for you. All I’m saying is, it probably wouldn’t be as bad as you think. It’s never as bad you believe it will be. But I like having you here with me, so don’t think this is me kicking you out, okay? It’s just that… if you want to follow Niall’s advice and to go back to your place… I’m sure you could work out ways to do so without feeling abandoned or neglecting yourself.”

“But I don’t want to be alone,” I answer, for what feels like a million times, because it’s all I can think about.

They want me to be alone.

They say I wouldn’t be, that I could still come and spend time with them, but Niall and Dev aren’t so used to having me at their place, they’d probably hate it if I came more often because I’m so fucking _annoying_ , and maybe Lamb would realize he doesn’t like me beign at his flat that much and ask me to come less than I want to, or not to come at all, and Snow is angry with me so he most likely wouldn’t want to see my face no matter what, so I’d _still_ end up being alone, more than I want, more than I can handle, and it’d be awful and they wouldn’t care because _‘it’s what’s best for you, Baz’._

“I know,” Lamb says softly, squeezing my knees. “And that’s why I’m _not_ kicking you out. You can stay here, as long as you wish. But if you want to move out, I have a few ideas of things you could do to make it less scary for you. You could do things slowly, Baz, it doesn’t have to be living with me 24/7 or being at your 24/7. That’s probably why you’re scared, because you’re not thinking of more gentle ways to break away from me.”

I frown. “I’m not sure I understand.”

He shifts into a more comfortable position, sitting with his legs crossed like a little kid. 

“Well, you could start by sleeping at your place instead of sleeping here. You could come here during the day and leave after dinner, or even before dinner if you think that would be alright, and then come back the next day when you feel like it, before leaving again in the evening, etc, etc. What do you think about that? Do you think that’s something you’d be willing to try doing?”

**…**

**Baz**

And that’s how, two hours later, I end up sitting in front of a completely different view of London as the one I’m used to seeing, alone on my balcony. 

I think I can do this.

Spending the night alone… It’s not as scary as being alone all day. And if it gets too much, I can just go to bed, and try to sleep. The sooner I sleep, the sooner I wake up the next day and can go back to Lamb’s.

Which is why I told Lamb I’d try.

Honestly, I think I would have preferred to spend one last night at his place, but I wasn’t sure I’d still have the nerve to do it if I waited one more day, so I _didn’t_ wait one more day.

I have to do this.

If I want to get Snow back, I have to move out and stop living with Lamb. Even if it’s difficult and it’ll probably hurt.

But after all…

Loving Simon Snow has always hurt. So I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised I have to do something that hurts before I’m worthy of him again.

I tap my fingers on my phone hesitantly. I feel like I should text him, call him, _do something_ , but I don’t know what, and I don’t want to have to face his anger. Snow being angry with me is thrilling when he’s in front of me and I can see his face get progressively redder, meet his glistening blue eyes and hear his furious words ring in my ears. 

**…**

**Lamb**

I almost expect Baz to be back before midnight. 

No.

I don’t _expect_ him to.

I wish he would.

I like having him here.

His presence in the flat makes it a little warmer, even when we’re in different rooms, and he’s being so quiet I can’t even hear his breathing over the sound of my own. 

At least he’s coming back tomorrow, unless he changes his plans. Tomorrow I’ll be able to take care of him again, which might be a little counterproductive, but I don’t pretend to be perfect _or_ selfless, and I like having someone to take care of.

It had been so long since I last had someone rely on me in that way, so long since I last felt I was _important_ in someone’s life. 

But, I won’t try to keep him with me. If he want to come back -again- I won’t try to convince him not to, but I won’t talk him into staying either.

It’s his decision.

And in the end, I know what his decision will be. It will be to leave, because that’s what he needs for Simon to take him back, and nothing can matter more than being with his mate. 

What I’m afraid of is that he might try to sever the ties he has with me too soon, harming himself in the process, to go back to Simon more quickly…

**…**

**Baz** : I’m sorry I upset you. It wasn’t my goal. I could try to explain how I feel, if you want, but I’m not sure it’ll make sense to you. It barely makes sense to me.

 **Simon** : you told me you lived with your ex and needed him and you say upsetting me wasn’t your goal?

 **Baz** : It really wasn’t, Simon, I promise. It was just the truth. Do you want me to explain or are you just going to stay angry with me and not listen?

 **Simon** : … okay. explain. i’m curious to know what you could possibly say to make this any better

 **Baz** : I hate the idea of being alone. It scares me. I’ve never been truly, completely alone, ever, in my entire life, except when I moved to this flat after you broke up with me, and this period of time was horrible and full of pain. When I started dating Lamb and moved in with him, I suddenly felt so much better, because I was no longer alone, and because I had someone with me all the time, someone who took care of me, on top of it all. It was wonderful, and I got used to it. Letting it go is scary -and painful, I have to admit- which is why I didn’t let it go. It’s probably not the right comparison to make, sorry if it sounds mean, but… back when we were teenagers… would you have willingly gone back to the care homes if staying at Watford was an opportunity? I don’t think you would have. That’s how I feel about leaving Lamb. With him I feel safe and comfortable, alone I let myself go. And honestly, I don’t feel like apologizing for wanting to feel safe. 

**…**

**Baz**

He doesn’t answer.

I don’t know if he will, but it has been 20 minutes and the only sign I got from him was the “read” he left me on.

Bastard.

Text is easier, but fuck, it’s not practical when it comes to this. If we were having a real, face to face conversation he couldn’t ghost me like that.

I sigh, pushing myself up. It’s cold here on the balcony anyway. 

Heat envelops me as I step inside my flat, making my shoulders drop. I should have left the balcony sooner.

I go to the kitchen to make myself some tea before going to bed. It’s something I did when I was with Fiona -whether at her place or when she was at the manor. It’s familiar. Comforting. 

I’m just done burning my tongue and throat with my drink when my phone lights up.

I let the cup down hurriedly, seeing that the message Snow sent seems rather long. 

**[1:03 am]** : ok. i see. i guess i kind of… understand why you’d want to live with him but i’m still not comfortable with it. i think we should let the whole dating thing on hold while you’re still living with lamb. we’re still friends, don’t think i want to stop being friends. i just don’t want us to try being boyfriends yet. 

That sounds reasonable enough. That’s what I expected. It’s even better than what I expected ; I didn’t think he’d still want to be friends. 

I quickly type an answer.

**…**

**Baz** : Thank you. For understanding. And for still wanting to be friends. If that can make you feel any better, I’m at my own flat right now. I haven’t moved back, not exactly, but I’m going to try spending the nights here and then progressively spend less and less time at Lamb’s. 

**Simon** : oh, that’s great. i’m gonna go to bed now though it’s late and we’re not all creatures of the night

 **Baz** : Excuse me?

 **Simon** : you = 🧛‍♂️ 

**Baz** : I’m rolling my eyes at you so hard right now

 **Simon** : WHATEVER, I’M GOING TO BED

 **Simon** : goodnight baz xxx

 **Baz** : Goodnight Snow.

 **Simon** : send me a kiss i sent you kisses🥺

 **Baz** : No.

 **Simon** : you’re so mean😔

 **Baz** : And?

 **Simon** : fuck off

 **Baz** : Here’s the Snow I know and love.

 **Simon** : awww you love me🥺🥺🥺

 **Baz** : Weren’t you going to bed?

 **Simon** : prick

**…**

**Baz**

I glance around when I wake up, confused.

This isn’t my…

Oh. Yes it is. But it’s my room at _my_ place.

I let my head fall back on the pillow, eyes closed. Crowley, this is so strange.

That room… It’s so _cold._

The guest room at Lamb’s place didn’t feel like mine either, but it wasn’t as bad as here, because it was still arranged similarly to Lamb’s room, and because when I woke up, like now, I could usually hear him in the kitchen, with his music -80s rock songs, Fiona would love him- playing as he makes breakfast or lunch, though I wake up so late, the two are often one and the same.

This morning there’s nothing but silence, and the sounds _I_ make as I get out of bed, and walk out of the room. 

This place is too big to live alone in. I remember thinking it was the right size when I first moved in but it’s big, much too big. There’s _so much_ empty space.

I could buy some more furniture and decorative elements to fill the space but I don’t intend on living here forever so what’s the point?

Though I guess it would keep me busy and make the flat feel more homey…

I shrug that thought away. I’ll think about that some other time.

For now, I’m leaving this place.

**…**

“I saved you a plate,” Lamb says as I take a seat in front of him, where said plate is set on the table.

Pasta with some orangish sauce. He must have been lazy today. He rarely makes pasta, not unless it makes it all fancy and complicated.

“Thank you.”

I take my fork, and eat a mouthful of food before he asks his first question, “How did the night go?”

He’s already done with his own food, so he’s just sitting here, relaxed in his chair, looking at me. He hasn’t bothered to put on clothes so he’s still in his pyjamas. I can’t blame him, I didn’t even bother putting pyjamas on before bed so I’m wearing the same clothes as yesterday -which is kind of disgusting, I know, but I’ve done worse. 

“The time before going to bed was alright. It took me forever to fall asleep but it’s not like that’s unusual. I didn’t like waking up to an empty flat though. I left just after I woke up, actually.”

He hums. 

“So what do you think you’re going to do? Are you coming back here or are you going to keep sleeping at your place?”

I pause to drink some water, then answer, “I’m going to keep sleeping at my place. I’ll… I think I’ll try having dinner there, but I’d have to go grocery shopping for that.”

I scrunch my nose. I hate grocery shopping. I never know what to buy unless Lamb makes a list of what we need, when I did grocery shopping alone for myself I just bought crap food and maybe a vegetable or two that I didn’t know how to cool anyway to feel less guilty about the rest. 

Lamb smiles at me across the table. “Okay. Do you know what you’re going to buy?”

Does he read my mind? 

“No,” I answer honestly, because what’s the point of lying when he knows I’m helpless if I’m left alone in a grocery shop without directions.

“We’ll review the things you know how to cook so that you’ll know what to buy, okay? You can’t live off pasta.”

“I _could_ , though,” I say, hiding my smirk by taking another mouthful. 

“Baz. No.”

**…**

And that’s how things go from there.

Lamb guides me through my first grocery list, so that I can make dinner for myself. He also often shows me what he’s cooking for lunch, when it’s easy enough for me to do again on my own, or sends me recipes he sees online. Hearing about my need to feed myself something else than ramen noodles and pasta, Snow also sends me a few recipes. Even _Dev_ does, showing me stuff with vegetables since that’s the thing I have the hardest time incorporating in my diet. I’ve called him once or twice on facetime while making dinner so that he’d guide me as I do it, it was kind of fun when he wasn’t being a bitch about how I didn’t cut something thinly enough or put too much of something -’ _despite my very clear and precise instructions, fucking hell Basilton, you’re useless’._

Since I’m excited to try out recipes, I don’t forget to make food, so I don’t forget to _eat_ , and I also keep myself busy during the evenings. 

All in all, it’s going well. I still spend most of the day at Lamb’s, but now I’m fine with leaving before the sun sets. 

There’s a lot of work to be done but… it’s a first step, I suppose. 


	45. Chapter Forty Five

**Baz**

Lamb has been throwing looks that he must think are discreet at me for the entire day, but it’s only when it’s nearly time for me to leave that I snap.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been looking at me weirdly all day long.”

He straightens his back, holding his ankle where his legs are crossed. 

“There’s something I need to tell you. You probably won’t like it.”

Oh fuck.

I wonder what it may be, that thing he has to say, for him to be this cautious.

“Go on.”

“I… You know that the club isn’t the only business I own.”

“Yes.”

As he told me about his different travels, he also told me about his different properties. Another club in Barcelona -it seems that he has learnt Spanish since he was Turned- and hotels in Florence, Las Vegas and Alexandria -I’ve been dying to ask him to take me there since he mentioned it, to see Egypt, but I never had the nerve. He has put people in charge of all of those other properties to be able to come to London and only have to deal with the club himself, but these people still report to him and I’ve seen him typing emails to one of them or heard him on the phone them often, sometimes even in the middle of the night. 

“Well, usually, before you and I dated, I would travel a few times a year to check if everything was good there, see the people that I care for in all of those cities, and those sorts of things. However, since I was dating you and I didn’t want to take you away from England and your friends for my _‘boring business matters’_ as you’d probably called them, I’ve let my employees completely on their own for much longer than I would normally do. It was fine up until now because I could still with everything that needed to be dealt with from my laptop, but as it happens, there’s a situation I can’t solve if I’m in London. I’m needed in Vegas, for at least a few days.”

It takes me a second to fully comprehend the meaning of the words.

_I’m needed in Vegas, for at least a few days._

My face falls. 

He’s going to leave me alone.

I know it’s important, that it’s his work, I’m not going to be a brat about it but _fuck_.

“I…” I clear my throat, trying to swallow the lump that took shape there. “When are you going to leave?”

He stops holding my gaze, looking down, sheepish.

_Oh fuck._

“I have a flight tomorrow at 6,” he answers.

Tomorrow. Fucking tomorrow. 

He’s leaving me alone _tomorrow_.

“6...?”

“In the morning.”

I’ve tried very hard to stay in control of myself since he told me he had to go, but I feel my heartbeat quicken as he says it.

“You… You’re leaving tomorrow. At 6 in the morning.”

“Yes,” he answers, still avoiding to meet my eyes. 

“That’s in just a bit more than 12 hours, Aleister Crowley Lamb, why didn’t you tell me sooner? You can’t possibly have ordered your tickets just a few minutes ago!”

“No… I have known I had to go back for three days actually, but, uh…”

“ _Three days?_ I’ve come here for three days and you didn’t think of telling me you were leaving before now?”

“I’m sorry. I knew you’d be upset and I thought and I didn’t want you to spend days worrying about it before I left.”

“So you thought the smart thing to do was only telling me right before you left? _Brilliant plan_ , really,” I snarl.

I’m not mad that he’s going per say, I can’t keep him captive in London, but fuck, he didn’t have to hide it from me…

“You said a few days,” I continue before he can answer. “Do you think it will be more or less than a week?”

“Probably more. I don’t think it’ll be more than two weeks, though. But you’ll be alright, Baz,” he tells me, leaning in. “You’ve been staying less and less, I’m sure you would have decided to try not coming at all on your own soon enough. This is just speeding up the process.”

 _Speeding up_ _the process_ , he says.

That for sure is speeding it up. 

I _was_ planning on trying to come less, to leave shortly after lunch, but this is so much more than that. Being alone at my flat after I wake up still makes me uncomfortable, I wasn’t ready to let go of my mornings with him yet. 

But I’ll have to, I suppose. It’s not like I have a choice.

**…**

It’s a bit bitterly that I go back to my flat today. I stayed with Lamb for dinner, for once, because he’s leaving tomorrow and I wanted to allow myself this, and he suggested I stay the night, but I decided not to. Waking up to _his_ empty flat would be worse than waking up to _my_ empty flat. Lamb’s flat isn’t meant to be empty. 

So here I am, sitting in my living room with a cup of coffee -and the entire coffee pot, to be able to pour myself some more coffee later- and my laptop open, because I know I won’t be able to sleep no matter what. I might as well be productive.

Well, _try_ to be productive. It’s been 2 hours of this and my page is still desperately blank. I’ve reread my previous chapter about three times in the hope that it would somehow make something click in my brain, but it hasn’t worked yet. I consider calling Snow. Talking to him usually helps when I write, he’s almost as involved in my story as I am -except for the fact that he’s completely unable to string a sentence together on his own- so it keeps me motivated. Besides, he has good ideas, sometimes, when he isn’t just trying to convince me to make one of my main characters a vampire -he’s insufferable. I told him times and times again that my characters were not _us_ and that I wasn’t going to make them like _us_ but ever since I have a sword to one of them, he decided that it was him, and that naturally, the other had to be me and therefore be a vampire.

But it’s too late for Snow to stay up any longer -he usually goes to bed around that time- and I don’t want to fuck up his sleep schedule just because I can’t sleep, so it will just be my and a blank page, unless inspiration suddenly strikes. 

**…**

It doesn’t. 

Two more hours pass and not a word has been added to my page. I close it, knowing that there’s no point keeping trying. 

Instead, I open another document, that I’ll later send to Daphne. She’ll probably scold me when she sees how late it was when I sent it, but I have nothing better to do, and figuring out exercises for the girls isn’t that difficult.

It’s something I’ve been doing for quite a while, now. I prepare sort of worksheets for my sisters. 

For Mordy, it’s different kinds of calculations to solve, sentences with historical facts -both Normal and mage history- to read and words in french and spanish -she hasn’t decided which one she wanted to learn in depth- with their translations to memorize. 

For the twins, it’s little sentences with alliteration and assonance in them for the girls to practice certain sounds, with the letters associated with these songs written underneath in a different -that I made from my own handwriting- for them to copy, as well as simple additions. 

It helps Daphne a great deal, because she doesn’t have to spend time trying to figure out exercises herself -and Merlin knows that woman needs all the time she can save- and it’s not like it’s a chore for me. I like thinking of those exercises. I like the idea of helping my sister learn a little more thanks to them, even if I’m not at the manor to properly teach them things. 

Doing that has also made me realize that I _really_ wanted to be a teacher, which incidentally makes me wonder whether or not I should apply to a university. I’m not really enchanted by this idea, I’d love going to Oxford now that I’ve sort of pulled myself together so I don’t want to go and apply to a random university just because I’ll most likely be accepted, but for Oxford, I’d have to wait yet another year since it’s much too late to apply.

I shake my head.

It’s too late to think about all of this.

I complete the twins’ worksheets -three of them, same as for Mordelia- and send the document to Daphne, before checking what time it is.

4:47.

It’s still much too early to chat with Snow, and I don’t want to bother Lamb, he must be getting ready to go to the airport…

**…**

**[5:01 am]** : I hope everything goes well in Las Vegas. Please text me when you land.

**…**

Since I don’t get to sleep, the morning isn’t as hard as I thought it would be. I do have a faint pain in my chest when I sit alone at my kitchen table, eating some cereals with an episode of the first show I could find for company. I don’t even like the show but it’s still sound filling my ears and something to rest my eyes on. 

The hour or so after breakfast goes smoothly as I’m just lying on my couch, half asleep, watching some stupid tv program, and then Snow, my savior, comes to my rescue by texting me, which never fails to keep me busy _and_ stops me from feeling lonely.

**…**

**Simon** : baz it’s awful i should never have read that book

 **Simon** : you know the one i gave you for your birthday 

**Baz** : Considering that this book and my book are the only books you’ve read in probably the past 5 years, yes, I know. Why is that?

 **Simon** : first of all : fuck you

 **Simon** : ALSO WHY ARE YOU ANSWERING IT’S 9:23 YOU’RE NEVER UP BEFORE 11

 **Baz** : Stop writing in all caps, Merlin. For your information, I didn’t sleep. 

**Simon** : oh crap, that sucks

 **Baz** : It’s nothing unusual. Are you going to tell me why you regret having read the book?

 **Simon** : oh, yeah, so it’s just that someone just bought it and i couldn’t help smiling like a maniac because i knew the poor girl was going to get hurt 

**Baz** : May she recover more quickly than I have. I’m still hurt by this book, you know that, right? 

**Simon** : of course you are🙄 sap🙄

 **Baz** : You’re just heartless.

 **Simon** : sure thing mate

 **Simon** : speaking of you being a sap

 **Simon** : there’s another book from the lgbt section that i’ve seen being bought a few times

 **Simon** : you interested?

 **Baz** : Why do you assume I’d be interested in only books from the LGBT section?

 **Simon** : do you want to read straight people drama?

 **Baz** : …

 **Simon** : that’s why. so, interested or not?

 **Baz** : Yeah, go on.

 **Simon** : so the title is they both die at the end

 **Baz** : And do they?

 **Simon** : what?

 **Baz** : Both die at the end?

 **Simon** : i don’t know mate i haven’t read it

 **Baz** : Aleister Crowley, you’re useless.

 **Baz** : I’m curious now. I’m going to come by.

**…**

**Simon**

He does look like someone who didn’t sleep last night.

I’m not gonna say that or he might punch me, though.

God, it’s lucky Nancy works upstairs in the mornings. I don’t like it when she’s here when Baz comes to the shop. She always looks at us weirdly and I know Baz isn’t really comfortable with her. Besides, she scolds me because I spend too long talking about it, which I wouldn’t care much about if she did it afterwards, but she says that when Baz is still here, which is kind of rude honestly. 

“Hello!”

“Hey, Snow,” he answers, before letting out a yawn.

It’s so cute.

“Maybe you should have tried sleeping instead of coming here.”

He shakes his head. “I couldn’t. I tried already. I’ve got coffee,” he says, showing me a cup that I _know_ contains more milk, syrup and sugar than it does actual coffee. “So I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so. Here, I went and got the book for you,” I tell him as I push the book on his side of the counter.

It’s really weird being the one recommending a book to Baz, but well, giving him a popular book for his birthday worked, so I guess this could be a success again. Let’s hope people don’t buy crap books.

He takes it, immediately flipping it to read the back cover. He hums. “That does seem interesting.” He puts it back on the counter, and reaches inside his pocket for his wallet, taking his credit card out. “I’ll take it.”

I make him pay for the book, and he puts it in that bag he brought, and _then_ we can start chatting, which is really the cool part. I love talking with him -well, I do when he isn’t purposely being an arsehole in one of his bad days.

I lean on my elbows.

“Is there a reason you couldn’t sleep tonight or is it just like that?”

He gives me a tense smile. 

“Lamb has business to attend to in America. He had a flight this morning, and he only told me yesterday. It was… Well, I wasn’t exactly excited at the prospect of being alone for a few days. That’s not how I had anticipated this would go. Staying at my flat and not visiting Lamb for the entire day, I mean.”

That’s…

I can’t say I’m particularly mad at the fact that Baz isn’t going to be with Lamb for some days, but at the same time, I feel like it’s kind of shitty of Lamb to only tell him the day before he left. Whether I like it or not, it’s clear that being able to visit him for a few hours a day is a comfort for Baz, it’s not cool to take that away from him so suddenly.

“Oh. I… It kind of sucks, but maybe that will allow you to see that you can manage just fine without him? I’m sure you can.”

He laughs through his nose. It makes a silly sound. It’s so lovely. “You’ve never been able to see just how fucked up I am, Snow, I’m probably _not_ able to manage as well as you think. But we’ll see. I don’t want to talk about it.”

That’s fine by me. I’m shit at talking about feelings and providing comfort and all that.

“What do you want to talk about then?”

He shifts to be in a more relaxed position, leaning his hip against the counter, crossing his arms while keeping his left hand available enough for him to drink this atrocity he calls coffee. 

“I don’t know. Any idea?”

I take a few seconds to think about it.

“Yes, actually!” I say suddenly, making him raise an eyebrow. “How are A and B doing? Have you written anything new since we last talked about it?”

A and B are the characters in that book he’s writing. After writing this thing about vampires, he realized he had liked writing and wanted to try his hand at fiction. He has a decent amount of chapters already, and he’s been telling me all about it since about the third chapter, when he first mentioned the fact that he was working on something. It’s a story where the hero falls in love with the villain and stays with him, because Baz says that it’s much cooler than fighting the villain. Because _he_ is a villain -no, he’s a boy. Just a boy.

And so A and B are the main characters. They’re both boys, because Baz said he wouldn’t be caught dead writing a heterosexual romance, and they’re called A and B because he hasn’t decided on names yet. I want him to call A Simon because he’s the hero and he has a sword and he has _blue eyes_ , so he’s pretty much _me_ , but Baz said A and B aren’t him and I - _bullshit_ \- and that he was not going to name his character after me -which is just rude.

“They’re doing great. B is still doing his villainous things and A is rather busy being unconscious. I haven’t really written much since we last spoke. I finished the chapter I was working on but I haven’t been able to continue it… I’m not sure what to do when A wakes up…”

And just like that, starts a long - _long_ \- conversation about his book, where I try -unsuccessfully- to _finally_ convince him to make B a vampire.

I’m only doing this for A, you know.

Vampires are quite hot, he’d be lucky to date one.

**…**

Baz decides to leave when someone next enters the shop. It’s a pity, but he’s already been here for about an hour and a half, so I can’t complain too much. 

As the person starts wandering around, Baz gives me a small smile.

“Well, I’ll talk to you later. Expect a full review when I’m done with this.” 

He holds up the bag with the book in it. 

“I was expecting a review the moment you bought it, Basilton. Tell me if they do both die at the end,” I answer, answering his smile too.

He says goodbye, and then he’s on his way out.

I still have the shadow of a smile on my face when the person who entered the shop hands me the two books they’re buying.

**…**

**Baz** : SIMON SNOW.

 **Simon** : Baz Pitch? why the caps?

 **Baz** : I’m never reading a book you recommend ever again. I’m heartbroken, Snow.


	46. Chapter Forty Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simon gets back the only personality trait he had in the earlier parts of this story : horny

**Baz**

“Bye, bye Baz!”

Ophelia and Cordelia both wave at me, and I smile at them one last time before ending the call. 

I mustn't be so horrible, if they still have it in themselves to wave at me excitedly after I’ve made them do maths for an hour. Not that I’m the one who decided they had to do their work on a Saturday, I wouldn’t be that cruel to a child, they’ve just been lazy all week -bad girls. 

I close my laptop, and sit back in my chair, sighing.

It’s the sixth day of this, of being in this flat and only this flat, and it’s starting to weigh on me. Apart from Snow, I haven’t seen anyone, and I’ve visited him only on the first day. I don’t want to bother him at work, and he must, understandably, be too tired after a day at work for me to go and bother him in the evening. Same for Niall and Dev -and I don’t even know their timetable at school, apart from the fact that Niall’s apparently makes no sense since Dev keeps whining about it. 

Thankfully, today is a Saturday, which is usually when I allow myself to visit Snow. Though I’m not sure I will.

After spending all this time here, I really have my mind set on changing the decoration -actually _getting_ decoration, there’s none at the moment- so I want to go shopping for that… 

**…**

**Baz** : Snow?

 **Simon** : baz?

 **Baz** : I understand if you don’t want to, you really don’t have to, but I was thinking about going shopping to buy some furniture and decoration for my flat this afternoon, and I was wondering if you’d like coming with me? 

**Simon** : you’re starting to feel lonely, aren’t you?

 **Baz** : …Yes. But really, you don’t have to come. You’ve been working all week, you should take time to relax anyway. Forget it, sorry I asked.

 **Simon** : baz

 **Simon** : stop being an idiot and come pick me up at the shop when i get off work

 **Simon** : i’ll have to eat in your car though

 **Baz** : We’ll have lunch somewhere at Harrods. 

**Simon** : everything is crazy expensive there i’m eating my leftover chicken salad

 **Baz** : Don’t be silly. I’ll pay. Don’t say no. You’re doing me a favour coming with me, I’m doing you a favour paying for a nice lunch. 

**Simon** : that really isn’t the same thing

 **Baz** : Shut up and let me treat you, Snow, for magic’s sake.

**…**

“I don’t want to be eating here,” Snow groans as we walk in a restaurant.

“Oh God, shut up,” I mutter under my breath.

A waitress is already approaching us to lead us to a table, I wish he would keep his comments to himself for _five seconds._

Thankfully, he does, and it’s only when we’re sitting with none of the employees of the restaurants around that he speaks again.

“Don’t swear like a Normal, it’s weird.”

“You never stopped swearing like a Normal just because I told you to.”

“Yeah but I was raised like one. In your mouth it’s strange.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to swear normally in public when I can be overheard, I’m not stupid. I have to adapt to my environment, Snow.”

“Whatever you say,” he answers, waving vaguely before changing the topic. He looks at me more sharply, leaning in a little. “So, how is living alone?”

His voice is serious. 

“Not as bad as I thought it would be,” I admit. It really isn’t. I’m honestly surprised. Maybe they were all right and I _can_ live on my own and take care of myself… “Mornings are difficult, I must say. I don’t like waking up to an empty place, I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the silence. I woke up to my upstairs neighbours’ loud music, yesterday, and even if I was grumpy about the situation, I didn’t feel as bad as I did the mornings before.”

Snow frowns. “But at Watford, you woke up alone. You were always still asleep when I left for breakfast, and you were already gone when I came back for my supplies.”

I snort. Merlin, I must really have been good at pretending to be asleep if he believes that. Or Snow is just particularly daft. That might be it too. 

“Snow. I always woke up when you did. You’re an oaf who’s seemingly incapable of getting ready for the day without making as much noise as an entire army. It got better when we lived at my parents’ because you actually were careful about waking me up, but at school… I just didn’t want to have to see your face or talk to you so I pretended to sleep.”

“Oh my God, you’re such a prick. Do you think you can talk to me without being a prick _once_ in your goddamn life?” he says, but there’s no real bite to the words. A smile is tugging at his lips. 

“Maybe if there weren’t so many things to criticize…” I answer, a smirk on my own lips.

He chuckles. “Oh, fuck you.”

**…**

**Simon**

“No, but more seriously, Baz,” I say after the waitress took our orders -I tried not to look at the prices when I picked what I wanted because I wouldn’t have eaten anything otherwise. “It’s really okay? Living alone?”

He sits up straighter. 

“Well, I’d rather _not_ be living alone, but… yes. I can manage.”

“Even meals and everything? And are you sleeping properly?”

It seems that this has always been difficult for him. I can’t speak for how it was before eight year, because despite my so-called stalking, I didn’t pay attention to his eating and sleeping habits, but when we were dating, well, he often told me he had “forgotten to eat today” when I asked him. He also spent a lot of nights without sleeping. 

“Sort of? I’m doing well with meals, at least. I…” His cheeks turn pink. “It’s really stupid, but I have alarms on my phone, one for lunch and one for dinner, to remind me to prepare something and eat,” he explains, looking away, clearly embarrassed.

It’s so cute.

The alarm thing is cute though.

But I don’t want him to be ashamed to tell me that. 

“When Penny moved in with me, we had sticky notes all over the flat. ‘Appointment at 3, Simon, don’t forget!’. ‘Fridge door doesn’t always close the whole way, push it well’ ‘Say we’re running out of milk when you open the last bottle not when you finish it’. We also had a schedule for who did what chore when, and who took their shower at what time. After some time, I didn’t need all of those anymore, but they were very helpful at first. It’s okay that you use an alarm. If it can make you eat, it’s all that matters.”

He looks back at me, smiling shyly.

God, he’s so beautiful. 

“Yeah, if you say so.” He clears his throat. “Also… I didn’t want to mention it because I wasn’t 100% sure, but I think I’m going to keep living at my flat, and only visit Lamb occasionally, the way I do you and Niall and Dev. If I could survive this week, I could survive longer.”

He says the last part jokingly, but the words still make my eyes go wide.

He’s not going to go back to being with Lamb most of the day, even after Lamb will be back from America. That means he doesn’t need him like he used to, right?

That means…

I’m not sure I want to think about what that means. Not now. Not when I’m at a restaurant, sitting in front of him, as we’re about to spend the afternoon alone together.

**…**

**Baz**

I can tell Snow is quite surprised, but probably also quite glad about my admission.

I didn’t say it to make him happy, though.

I said it because I mean it. Living alone might not be my favourite thing, it is still something I can do. It feels rather fulfilling to do it.

Niall was right, it’s good knowing I don’t _need_ anyone. That as long as I do get to _see_ someone and am not completely cut off from the rest of the world, I won’t fall apart just because I’m on my own.

I wish Niall wasn’t always right about things. Bastard.

Besides, living alone has one massive advantage, and it’s that it makes dating Snow possible again, since what he didn’t like was me living with Lamb.

I won’t push anything, though. There’s no rush. If he wants to take me on dates, I’m sure he will.

For now…

Just spending time with him is enough, even if there’s no promise of it leading to our relationship changing. 

**…**

**Simon**

I shouldn’t have agreed to this.

I should have known not to agree to this.

I wanted to be a nice friend and be with Baz so I ignored the fact that he’s absolutely insufferable when it comes to shopping, and fuck am I regretting it now.

No, that’s not true. I don’t regret it. 

I like being with him.

I _don’t_ like being with him in shops.

He keeps asking for my opinion on things I couldn’t care less about, showing me pillows that look the exact same colour to me and asking which colour is prettier, or making me smell candles to know which one I think smells more relaxing -how does that even make sense?-, or asking whether or not I would be willing to help him assemble the furniture he buys -which I already told him I would, but he keeps asking.

As he compares two paints -since when is he buying paint? He said furniture and decoration- I walk away from him for a moment, before I start banging my head against things. Before I start banging _him_ agains… No.

There are very fine tables in this shop, that seem sturdy like the one in his parents’ dining room…

Anyway.

Seconds later, I see a bloke who seems to be doing the same as me. He’s glancing at a blonde girl like she’s the scariest thing he’s ever seen. I get that. Baz terrifies me more in the alleys of a home decor shop than he would with his fangs out and his wand pointed at me. 

“Your girlfriend’s driving you crazy too?” the bloke says, giving me a sympathetic smile.

“Not my girlfriend,” I answer. “But yeah.”

All he ever does is drive me crazy...

He turns around suddenly, walking towards me with samples in his hands. Oh God, not again.

… And I let him. 

**…**

“Do you want me to drive you back to your place?” Baz asks as he pushes the trunk of his car shut. He had to cast spells on most of what he bought so that it would all fit in there. 

“Aren’t we going to assemble your new furniture?” I ask, frowning.

What’s the point of buying it now if he is going to leave it all in boxes when he gets home?

He walks around the car to go take his seat, and I do the same. 

“Well, _I_ am going to assemble it, but I assumed _you_ would be going back to your place. It took much longer than I thought it would when I initially asked you if you’d help with the furniture, I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to go home and have some peace,” he says with a small, nervous smile. 

“I never need peace from you.”

Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.

My cheeks burn as he glances at me softly.

“Sap,” he says, trying to sound scornful, but only managing to sound endeared.

“You’re the sap. You cry over romance books and movies, and you used to wax poetic about my eyes unprompted all the time.”

I loved it when he did that.

I never thought my eyes were particularly beautiful -a lot of people say blue eyes are pretty, and I agree to a certain extent, but mine are a boring shade of blue- but Baz clearly loved them and it made me feel so warm inside to hear all the nice things he had to say about them. I was never able to say things like that to him. Words don’t come naturally to me.

But I loved his eyes, too.

I _love_ his eyes.

I love everything about him.

Even the things I used to hate.

Even the things he doesn’t like.

Even the bad things.

“That’s because your eyes are the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen, darling,” he says, with as much sarcasm as he can muster in his voice. Then, in his normal tone of voice, as he starts the engine, he adds, “Do you want me to drive you back or not?”

“No. Let’s go to your place. I’m still curious to see it, and you can’t assemble all this furniture by yourself.”

He pulls out of the parking spot.

“I can. If I use magic.”

“But you won’t. You said it’s not super reliable and you don’t want your furniture to come undone at a random time because you didn’t take the time to assemble it by hand.”

He raises his eyebrow. “So you _did_ listen to what I was saying.”

“Of course I did.”

“I didn’t think you were listening. I know you get bored when I rant about things you don’t care about.”

“I don’t, actually. I like hearing you talk. You have a nice voice.”

_You have a nice voice._

How fucking stupid is it to say that. 

But he does have a nice voice… Especially when it’s calling my name, full of desperation… 

No.

Christ, what’s wrong with me today.

It’s not this hard controlling my inappropriate thoughts, usually.

Maybe it’s the stubble.

Yeah, because the fucker has _stubble._

He probably forgot to shave for a day or two. 

It’s really hot.

I wonder how it would feel, scraping my chin if we kissed. I wonder how it would feel, scraping the inside of my thighs if…

_Fucking hell._

Baz snorts.

“What a compliment,” he comments. 

I blush even more.

**…**

As I expected, Baz’s flat is overly fancy. It must have cost a fortune. Not that it’s a problem for him. 

“So, that’s where you live,” I say stupidly -half of the things I say are stupid- I say as I put down the bags I was carryng. “It’s nice. I’d hate to live here but it’s nice.”

He laughs through his nose. “Thank you for your honesty.”

“Sorry, it’s just everything I hate in terms of decoration. All that modern stuff, it’s so…”

“Cold?” he interrupts me. “I agree. That’s why I bought all of this.”

Makes sense.

I mean, it’s true that this doesn’t seem to be the kind of furniture Baz would go for. It must have already been there when he moved in, and he never had it in him to change anything until now.

I give a quick look at the clock -I don’t want him to notice and think it’s because I want to leave soon. I don’t mind staying, as long as he’ll let me.

5:48. I’ll probably have to stay for dinner.

I’m excited just thinking about it.

Having dinner with Baz. At his place. 

Being all alone with Baz in a flat, doing something as mundane as having a meal shouldn’t make my heart flutter like that, but somehow, it does.

I’m so goddamn in love with that bastard, it’s ridiculous.

“So,” I ask, shaking my head slightly to clear it. “Where do we start?”

“What about you use all those muscles swinging that sword of yours around for years gave you to rip the boxes open while I think about where I want everything to go?” he says, giving me a playful smile.

“Yeah, sure, do as little work as possible, Pitch.”

“Exactly.”

**…**

He ends up opening more boxes than I do -which I will blame on vampire strength. It’s an unfair advantage. 

**…**

Halfway through reading instructions -because apparently Baz is one of those people who actually read instructions instead of going at it blindly- and after pushing his hair back from his face about a hundred times, he sighs heavily and disappears from the room with a “I’m coming back in a minute.”

And Christ, when he comes back…

He’s tied his hair up, tight enough that it’s not moving too much, but it still looks a bit loose and messy -and overall, stunning.

That and the shadow of a beard he has on his jaw… I might die.

He has absolutely no business being this handsome. It’s cruel.

“Snow, when you’ll stop staring maybe we could get back to it?” he says, with a teasing voice as he sits on the floor next to me, where he was when he left me.

“Oh, uh, yeah, of course,” I answer, feeling my cheeks burn _again._

**…**

**Baz**

He’s a beautiful disaster. 

He put music -from his phone, because apparently he doesn’t trust my taste, he says I listen to too many sad songs and he isn’t in the mood for that- and he’s swinging in place as he puts a cupboard together.

I’m only vaguely listening to his music, as I work on the piece of furniture I am assembling, until I notice he’s humming along.

Interesting. 

He’s so lovely, moving his lips, barely whispering the words. 

I know the words too. I kind of want to sing along too, but I don’t want to burst his bubble, so I keep quiet, simply watching him.

The song changes, to another one I know the lyrics of, but that I still don’t sing.

Snow does though, a little louder. He isn’t just humming now.

He’s completely off key, but it’s still so adorable.

I don’t know if it’s because he felt my gaze on him, but he glances at me over his shoulder.

I can’t even look away in embarrassment from being caught. It’s like he’s bewitched me.

He sings a little louder, looking at me a bit more intensely.

“ _I have loved you since we were 18.”_

**…**

**Simon**

I have.

**…**

**Baz**

“ _Long before we both thought the same thing_ ,” I sing too, because it feels like the right thing to do.

Because… 

Because it fits. 

He’s too surprised that I know the lyrics, and he skips the next line. 

I give him a smile, and resume singing along when he does, drowning in the blue of his eyes.

“ _All I can do is say that these arms_

_Are made for holding you, oh-oh_

_I wanna love like you made me feel_

_When we were 18_ ”

**…**

**Simon**

We get closer, somehow.

I don’t know if I crawled towards him or if he did.

Or if we both did.

All I know is that his face is right in front of mine.

So close I can see the little cut he has on his lips, probably from his fangs popping out unexpectedly.

I want to kiss them, but they’re moving again.

“ _We took a chance_

_God knows we tried_

_Yet all along, I knew we'd be fine_.”

We’re just a breath away.

So close…

“Baz,” I blurt out before he can sing more.

“Yeah?”

He sounds a little breathless. It makes a strange sensation grow in my stomach. Something like arousal, coupled with that sweet feeling of _being in love._

“Do you wanna go on a date with me some time soon?”


	47. Forty Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the boys are going faster than I planned they would but I can’t seem to stop them...

**Baz**

“I’m going on a date with Simon.”

“Hello to you too,” Lamb laughs through the phone. 

“Yeah, yeah, hello. Did you miss what I just said? I’m _going on a date with Simon_. He’s willing to date me again.”

I can’t contain my excitement. I feel restless, and my voice is full of giggles.

I know I’m ridiculous, but I’m so _happy._

“That’s great, Baz.” He sounds sincere. It makes me even happier. I know he wasn’t enchanted about it, when I first went on a date with Simon, all those weeks ago. “I assume that means I’ll see you at my flat less?”

“Yes. I’ve been handling things well enough on my own, I can keep going like that. I… I guess I have to thank you for going to Vegas,” I say, chuckling. “If I hadn’t been forced to be separated from you it would probably have taken me weeks before I considered myself ready for this.”

Merlin, I’d have lost so much time.

“Well, I’m very happy that my business problems are beneficial to you, Baz.”

His voice is still teasing, thank magic. I wouldn’t want to upset him with my excitement.

I still apologize.

“Sorry. How are things going for you?”

“Rather well, actually. The problem wasn’t such a big one, and I’m on my way to solve it. It will all be perfectly fine soon.”

That’s a relief. I would have felt awful if Lamb had problems with his business because he kept himself from going to Las Vegas sooner because he wanted to stay with me in London. 

“Good. You’re coming back soon, then?”

There are a few seconds of silence.

“That’s what I called you about, actually,” he says, some discomfort palpable in his voice. “I… Erm… I have _reconnected_ with an old friend of mine here in America, and I’d like to spend some time here with them, so I’m going to stay for longer than I initially thought.”

Reconnected with an old friend.

I feel a smile grow on my face. I guess I can’t blame him, I practically threw myself on Simon Snow and ripped his clothes off him in the middle of my living room not even 24 hours ago.

“That friend of yours,” I say, barely concealing my amusement. “Do they give better head than me?”

Lamb laughs through his nose, surprised. When he next speaks, he sounds more relaxed.

“I wouldn’t dare compare.”

“Oh come on, humour me. I won’t be offended if you say it’s them, but you did claim I give good head.”

And fuck do I love it.

Giving head, I mean -though I do love Lamb praising me too. I should probably prefer being sucked off than sucking someone off, but somehow, I don’t. 

I can’t wait to blow Snow again…

Anyway.

“You do give good head. But I’m not going to compare. I’m a gentleman,” he says with a pedantic voice that makes me laugh.

“You sure were a gentleman when you called me a whore.”

“You liked it.”

I liked it.

“Whatever. So, you’re staying in Las Vegas? Are you completely moving there or are you going to come back to London?”

“I’ll be coming back,” he says with certainty. “This person… we’ll get tired of one another in a matter of weeks. It’s always like that with them.”

He doesn’t sound sad when he says it. It makes it seem like it’s a good thing. Maybe it is for him. Fucking someone for a few days, then going separare ways. Meeting then again, fucking them again. And repeat.

I could never.

I want more commitments than that, _need_ more commitment than that. 

Thankfully, Simon Snow seems to be one for commitment too…

**…**

“Niall, I need your help,” I say, very solemnly, as I position my phone on the bathroom counter in a way that will allow Niall to see me. 

He rolls his eyes.

“For your little date with Simon?”

My eyes fly to the phone screen.

“How do you even know about that?”

“Simon told me, of course,” he says with a smile.

Because _of fucking course_ Simon told him. Moron.

I groan.

“I told him to keep quiet about it until things were more serious between us.”

Niall cocks an eyebrow, before throwing some of the chips he’s eating in his mouth.

“You should have known Simon wouldn’t keep his mouth shut. He’s literally not capable of keeping a secret.”

“He’s annoying, is what he is. But anyway, since you know why, what do you think I should wear?” I take hold of the two hangers with the shirts I’m hesitating between. They’re both purple, since it’s Snow’s favourite colour, but… “Light purple or dark purple?”

I move the shirts in front of my chest one after the other, to showing Niall what they look like with my trousers. 

A pair of jeans, because Snow always liked me in jeans. Dark because I only own dark jeans. Straight because you won’t catch me dead wearing bell bottoms and skinny jeans aren’t a good look on me _at all._

“Light,” Niall answers. “Are you going to put on makeup? Jewelry?”

I take the shirt off the hanger, unbuttoning it. 

“I don’t know. Snow is a moron. There’s a 61% chance he’s going to take me to a place full of bordeline homophobic people, so I’d rather not look any more effeminate than I already do. I’ll keep all of that for when we have a date at his place or mine, but since I don’t know where we’re going, I’d rather take as little risks as possible.”

Niall hums. “Understandable.” He eats some more chips. It makes an annoying background noise as I button my shirt. 

“You gonna fuck him on the first date?”

Definitely not Niall’s voice.

The laughter I hear is definitely Niall’s, though.

“Fuck off, Dev,” I answer automatically, not even bothering to look up to glare at him. He probably isn’t even looking at the screen, he must just be in the same room as Niall. 

“But are you though? That was a serious question, Basilton.”

“How is that any of your business, exactly?” I ask as I adjust the collar of my shirt, which is completely useless since it’ll have moved by the time Snow arrives. 

“Just curious, mate,” Dev says. I imagine he’s shrugging. “You could use a good shag, you’ve been an arse lately.”

I glare at the phone, though Niall is the only one I can see on my screen. 

“That has nothing to do with the fact that I do or do not get “good shags”. I’ve been on edge because Lamb is away, that’s all.”

I turn on the water, at a low flow, wetting the tip of my fingers before running them through my hair. I haven’t used hair gel in ages, and I could probably not use anything, but some water makes it all look a bit less messy. 

“No, no, no,” Dev continues, because apparently, he’s decided to be annoying tonight -when is he _not_ annoying? “You were being a prick before Lamb left. It’s definitely the frustration.”

I snort.

“I’m not listening to you anymore.”

**…**

_You gonna fuck him on the first date?_

What kind of question is that?

Did _I_ ask Niall if he was going to fuck Dev on their first time when he told me they were going on a date? No I fucking didn’t.

Admittedly, we were 16 and they had never had sex -or been together- before but _still._

Besides, it’s not the first date. It was a complete fiasco, but my and Snow’s first date after the breakup is the one we’ve gone on weeks ago. 

Weeks ago…

It feels _an eternity_ ago. The time when we were a couple seems like it happened in another life. I’m aching for him so much.

I _miss him_ so much.

We’ve been spending so much time together, at his place, at mine, at the shop, on the phone, but I see have this pain in my chest from how much I miss…

I miss the sweet pecks and barely-there caresses. The lazy afternoons cuddling in bed, reading with Snow lying on top of me. The heated kisses, the pushing and pulling. The sleepless nights, falling apart under his touch. The passionate snogging, the stroking and groping. The sweet mornings, melting at the sights of his tired smile and his beautiful face bathed in sunlight.

I miss his rough, calloused fingers on my skin. His wet lips trailing kisses on my body. His wicked tongue licking its way down my neck, on my nipples, in my mouth. His teasing teeth grazing the skin on my thighs, trying to leave marks that he knew wouldn’t last. 

I miss the goodnights whispered in a darkened room and the good morning kisses with bad breath. 

I miss his voice saying ‘ _baby’_ when he talks to me. 

I miss the ‘I love you’s, said casually, as we’re watching a show or having a meal. I miss those said in between pants and moans, as he thrusts inside me, his eyes locked in mine.

I miss everything.

I miss _being his._

Please, Merlin, Morgana, Crowley, _God_ , and every other fucking entity I can think of, let me be his again. 

**…**

**Simon**

“Breathe, Simon, it’s gonna be okay,” Penny says, the sound of Shep’s movie in the background.

“But what if it’s _not_ okay? What if he decides he doesn’t want me anymore.”

He won’t. 

I know he won’t.

But _what if he did._

The leg I’m not currently bent over to tie my shoe starts bouncing. 

“Si, that’s a ridiculous idea. Baz has been in love with you for years. I highly doubt he would stop wanting you right when he could have you back. You’re nervous, it’s normal, but everything will be fine, I promise. You two will go do whatever it is you have planned, and you’ll have a nice evening together. That’s all that’s gonna happen,” she says with the soothing voice she used to use when she helped me through a panic attack. “Simon, have you taken your meds? It might help you relax to take a pill.”

I shake my head vigorously as I shift to lace my other shoe. “I don’t want to take my meds for nothing. I’m a bit stressed but I know it’s the level of anxiety I can deal without medicine.”

“If you say so.”

I wish I’d call her on facetime. I wouldn’t be against seeing her face. 

“When do you have to leave?” she asks.

I glance at my phone.

“In ten minutes at most if I want to get to Baz’s place by the time I told him. He’s always late so I don’t _need_ go be there by that time but…”

“You hate being late so you want to,” Penny interrupts me. I can hear the smile in her voice. 

“Yup. So, uh, I think I’m gonna hang up? ‘Cause I’ll never be ready on time if I keep talking to you,” I say, laughing nervously as I sit back up.

I take my phone in hand. My leg is bouncing again.

She hums. “Goodbye then. Call me tonight to tell me how it went. Or tomorrow,” she adds with a giggle, her voice full of innuendos that make my cheeks burn.

I think I liked it better when Penny hated talking about me having sex so much that she wouldn’t even being it up for jokes.

Because that’s what it is, right?

If she’s saying _tomorrow_ it’s because she assumes I might be busy tonight… busy with Baz.

Distantly, I hear her hang up as I relax in the couch.

 _Busy_ with Baz…

A smile grows on my lips.

I wouldn’t mind that _at all_.

I spent so many weeks - _months_ \- wanking to the thought of him…

I would love to get the _real_ thing.

I shake my head.

_No inappropriate thoughts._

I have to control myself. It’s a date. Just a date. That Baz agreed to a date doesn’t mean he would agree to more. It would be unfair to have such expectations when he hasn’t done anything to give me those expectations.

He _just_ wants to go on a date with me.

And that’s enough.

It’s more than enough.

**…**

He looks drop dead gorgeous.

Of course he does.

Fucking hell, why do I even try making myself look good when _this_ is the bloke I’m going out with. Even in my best clothes, I barely look average next to him.

The fact that he settles for me blows my mind. I’m not complaining, I’m fucking happy his standards are so low. It’s just really weird.

He doesn’t seem to think I look bad, though, somehow.

He’s looking at me up and down, taking in the sight of me as I’m standing on his doorstep, stupidly waiting for him to leave his flat.

He leans down to kiss my cheeks. At first he did it to make fun of me because of my slip in the day he made his announcement about his book, but now I think he just got used to it. Or he likes having an excuse to kiss me -though that’s not real kisses, his cheeks just brush mine as he makes the popping sound of a kiss with his lips. An excuse to be close to me, then, more accurately. 

I’m not mad at that.

“You smell good,” he comments when he moves back. 

“Thank you,” I say with a shy smile.

I bought perfume. _Expensive_ perfume. It’s from the same shop that Baz buys his products from, but it’s a fragrance that I prefer. It’s sweeter than Baz’s cedar and bergamot scent, because I don’t really like the smell of strong, masculine perfumes. It’s too aggressive. 

There’s bergamot too in mine, but also a lingering floral smell that I quite like. 

“You smell good too,” I add.

As if he didn’t know what I think of his perfume. 

“And do I look good?” he asks, the cocky bastard.

I have half a mine to tell him he doesn’t but considering I can’t take my eyes off him I don’t think he’d believe me.

“Yes. Purple is a good colour on you.”

“Everything’s a good colour on me.”

This time I roll my eyes. God, he’s annoying. 

“Arrogance isn’t sexy,” I tell him as he _finally_ steps out of his flat.

He turns around just long enough to close the door.

Why does he have to wear a _long_ coat, dammit, his arse looks amazing in jeans he should know not to hide it…

Suddenly he’s facing me again, and so close that I have to tilt my chin up a little to look at him in the eyes -those fucking three inches. 

“Is it not?” he asks with an _arrogant_ smile, his voice all smooth and low and _sexy._

Fucking hell, I hate him.

“Fuck you,” I mumble under my breath.

**…**

**Baz**

I like the way Snow looks at me.

I like it in general -even when we were _friends_ , he always had a hard time not checking me out- but I particularly like it tonight.

I don’t know if it’s the circumstances, the clothes, or simply the fact that he hasn’t shagged in months, but he looks at me like he used to before he made sweet -not always sweet…- love to me all night long.

Arousal grows low in my stomach just at the thought of it.

I ball my hands into fists, digging my nails in the flesh of my palm.

_Calm down Basil._

It’s just a date. A first date. 

But it’s not _really_ a first date, so…

_No._

“That’s here,” Snow says, as he suddenly stops walking.

I take a look at the restaurant, and I frown. It seems famili…

Oh.

When I glance back at Snow, he has a small smile on his face, and an adorable pink tint on his cheeks.

“It’s the restaurant where I took you after my trial…” I say, emotion in my voice.

He says _I’m_ a sap but he’s the one who organized a date at the same restaurant as…

“The one where we first went to together,” he adds. “I just… I thought it would be nice to come back.”

“That was a great idea, Snow,” I say sincerely, because I don’t feel like saying sarcastic.

Not now.

Not when Simon, this beautiful moron who forgets everything you tell him, who probably couldn’t remember what he ate for breakfast, made the effort to try and remember the restaurant where I took him years ago, _and_ booked a table there for our date.

Years ago.

It only hits me now, as I think about it, that it was _years ago._

We were both 18 when we first dated. We were both 18 when we first walked in this restaurant.

Now I’m 21, and he’s 20, and…

And the love I feel for him is just as overwhelming as it was back when we were 18.

**…**

**Simon**

Tonight was brilliant.

I feel like I’m floating when we exit the restaurant, Baz walking next to me, a little closer than he did when we came.

He was so…

He’s always so…

He makes me so….

I feel a little dizzy.

Drunk, but I haven’t drank a droplet of alcohol.

Drunk with love.

Drunk with his eyes and the way they shone tenderly as he talked about his sisters, with his voice and how much hotter it sounds every time I hear it, with the way he moves his long, elegant hands as he spoke.

Drunk with his perfume that smells like home and his smiles that fell like it.

Drunk with him.

**…**

**Baz**

Snow looks like one of the characters in those cheesy rom coms I enjoy watching. 

He seems seconds away from bursting into song. 

It makes me want to act like the love interest in those cheesy rom coms I enjoy watching.

I’m seconds away from swinging my arm around his waist and pulling him into a kiss.

“Simon?”

His eyes fly to me, as a wide grin spread on his face.

I want… I want…

I don’t know what I want.

I want so many things.

I want to cup his face and kiss him sweetly, tenderly, as I thread my fingers through his curls, gently, making him feel my love.

I want his clothes on my bedroom floor and his naked, sweating body on top mine, making me feel his passion. 

“Yes?”

“Do you want to stay the night?”


	48. Forty Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unsurprisingly...... smut chapter

**Simon**

How long are we going to pretend that we’re not here to fuck?

I mean I’m all for being a gentleman and going back home after just having dinner, but _he_ asked me to ‘stay the night’. I’m not dense enough not to understand that that means sex. 

And yet we’re just sitting on the couch of his living room, sipping some fancy non-alcoholic drink and chatting. Which is _fine._

But I’m burning for him and if I don’t get my hands on him sometimes tonight I think I’ll die. Fuck controlling myself. I’m sure he wants this as much as I do.

I put my half empty glass down on the coffee table, then shift closer to him.

“Baz?”

He swirls his own drink, looking down at it.

“Yes?”

I lick my lips, but they still feel so dry.

There’s _no way_ I’m misinterpreting all the signals he sent me, but _what if_ I am?

“Can I kiss you?”

His eyes fly up, locking with mine. The air gets stuck in my throat.

His eyes are intense, they always are, but right now… 

“Yes,” he answers.

It’s barely a whisper, he seems breathless too, but it’s enough.

I feel a smile grow on my lips as I move closer to him. I slide my hand along the headrest, and cup the back of his neck. He’s still so cold. I play with the hair at the base of his neck as I press on it gently, to turn his head and bring his lips on mine.

At first he stays stoic as I move my lips against his softly, getting used to the feeling of them again. They’re smoot and a little plump and absolutely perfect. They taste faintly of the cherry chapstick he put on them after dinner.

He snaps out of his strange mood -I love that just feeling my lips on his made him stop working…- and his hands go up, resting on my jaw lightly. 

When his thumbs start stroking my cheeks I feel like I might cry.

Instead, I bite at his bottom lip, before licking along it, expecting him to…

He opens his mouth and I slip him the tongue.

He tastes like the mango flavour of his drink and like coming home. 

**…**

**Baz**

I’m kissing Simon Snow and I’m pretty sure the sweet way he’s moving his tongue inside my mouth has made me lose some brain cells. 

The only coherent thoughts I can have are _want_ and _more_ and _love you_ and _simon._

Yeah.

I think that’s about it.

That’s all I can think about.

_Simon._

Simon, Simon, Simon.

 _My_ Simon.

**…**

**Simon**

I don’t really know how, but somehow Baz ended up on my lap, his hips rocking against me as he kisses me urgently, and I can’t say I’m mad at it.

“Touch me,” he pants when he pulls back.

His lips are back on mine before I can tell him anything, so I suppose all I have to do is obey.

_Touch me._

And touch him, I do. 

I fumble with his shirt, struggling to untuck it, and then I’m slipping my hands underneath it.

He melts against me as my hands roam everywhere on his back, warming up his skin. 

I touch him up and down his sides lightly, making him shiver -he’s ticklish. I smile as much as I can while kissing him when his hands clench around my jaw as I brush his nipples.

I roll them between my fingers and he pulls back with a wet pop that is more erotic than such an ugly sound has any right to be. His eyes are closed and his head slightly tilted back.

“Fuck, Snow,” he groans, the words coming from low in his throat. 

I feel myself getting a little harder just hearing it.

I bite his jaw teasingly. “Simon.”

“Snow,” the bastard answers, because of course he’d answer that.

I kiss along his jawline, talking in between kisses.

“Be a prick…” Kiss. “...all you want…” Kiss. “...I’ll have you…” Kiss. “...screaming my name…” Shiver, and kiss. “... my _proper_ name.” Kiss, just under his ear.

He yanks my head back in front of his by the hair, and the stinging pain I feel where he’s holding me makes me whine in a way that isn’t just plaintive.

And then his tongue is in my mouth again.

That’s good.

I like his tongue in my mouth. He can’t say shitty things when his tongue is in my mouth.

There are other places where I’d _love_ to feel his tongue.

My skin feels hotter at the thought, and I resume touching, hoping the coldness of him will appease the heat. 

No.

I’m only touching him because I want to.

Need to.

I rub his stomach, because I know it makes him weak, and I feel _myself_ getting weak when I feel the soft skin there. He used to have more abs, and it drove me fucking mad, but this is hot too. Everything is hot when it comes to him. 

Progressively, my hands stroke lower and lower, until I can feel the hair under his navel and the waistband of his trousers.

He rocks his hips more, trying to press his hard cock against my hands. 

It makes me moan into the kiss.

Baz Pitch is sitting on my lap, shamelessly grinding against me, and he’s _hard._

I take my lips off his, and rest my forehead on his shoulder, breathing heavily. 

This is _so much_ and we’re both still clothed. I’m going to die before the end of the night.

I’m apparently staying still too long because he whines.

“Snow, I need you.”

My trousers are so tight it hurts.

I undo his belt as best as I can, to be able to slip my hands under his trousers.

It whips the air when I pull on it quickly to take it out of his belt loops, and Baz moans. 

Fuck, I’d forgotten this is something he’s into.

I throw the belt away.

Not tonight.

Maybe one day. If he wants it. I can think of a few things I could do with a belt.

But not tonight.

“Fuck, me too,” I pant as my hands squeeze his arse, the thin fabric of his pants the only thing separating his skin and mine. He moans again, and I drink in the sound. His moans are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. 

I need him so much it might destroy me. 

I kiss his collarbone. “I need you so fucking bad, Baz.”

“You can have me,” he answers, effectively making me lose my fucking mind.

“Bedroom.” He shivers. “Take me to your bedroom.”

“Yes,” he whispers. “Yes.”

He looks drunk when he gets off my lap. His shirt is a mess, because of my pushing it up, his hair isn’t staying perfectly in place anymore, and his pupils are dilated.

He never looked this gorgeous in my wettest dreams, and he still has _all of his fucking clothes on_.

He holds out his hand, and taking it feels more groundbreaking than snogging and groping him. 

Our hands fit so perfectly together.

I follow him to his room, my heart beating quicker and quicker the closer we get.

I don’t even know what it looks like, I only saw it in the dark.

It doesn’t matter. I honestly couldn’t care less what it looks like. As long as he has a mattress I can fuck him into, I’m fine with it.

Though…

Maybe…

I could…

We could…

He wipes out all of my thoughts when he pulls me against his chest, catching my lips before making us fall on the bed. My forehead almost knocks into his, and a surprised gasp makes me break the kiss. He grunts, annoyed that I _dared_ stop kissing him, and presses my face down. 

He hooks his left leg around mine, pressing down on my thigh too, making our hips meet and my hard cock rub his through our clothes.

Frustration makes me sigh. I want to fell his fucking _skin._

We break apart, and I just have time to breathe out “Undress” before he’s working _my_ trousers open. 

I guess _I_ will have to undress him, then.

He better not complain if I rip a button or two. 

**…**

**Baz**

I need to see him.

Touch him.

Feel him.

So much.

I need to be his.

I need to make him _mine_.

**…**

**Simon**

My hands are shaking when I hook my fingers under the waistband of both his trousers and pants.

It’s ridiculous, I’ve seen him naked a million times, but it feels so significant, so important.

It’s a first time.

Not _the_ first time.

But a first time.

Our second first time.

It’s a big fucking deal.

I look up at him, trying not to let my eyes linger on his perfect torso. “May I?” I ask, trying to sound cool and sexy when really I’m about to burst into tears. 

I’m such a bloody sap.

“You don’t have to ask,” Baz answers. 

**…**

**Baz**

He could do whatever he wants to me and I’d gladly let him.

**…**

**Simon**

I press a kiss to his hip bone before I tug his trousers and pants down, keeping my eyes fixed on the waistband. I’ll watch him after. I’ll have all the time to watch his gorgeous, naked body.

I take his socks off, abandoning them on the floor with the rest of his clothes, and then…

Then I look up.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I say, breathless. 

My hands slide up his legs as I move back to where I was, and feeling the muscles of his thighs is making me lightheaded.

Fuck, I really love his thighs.

It feels right, standing there, naked between them.

But…

Arousal is burning on my stomach as I bend over him, aligning our chests, but not touching. I hold myself up on my elbows, that are on either side of his face. 

“Baz,” I say, a hint of nervousness in my voice.

It’s exciting. But it’s scary.

“Snow?” he answers, frowning slightly at the tone of my voice.

I thread the fingers of my right hand through his hair. It’s like the softest silk.

Don’t chicken out, Simon, it’s going to be alright. 

I take a shaky breath, and bore my eyes into his as I say, with as much confidence as I can put in the words. “I want you to fuck me.”

**…**

**Baz**

Mine.

He wants to be mine.

**…**

**Simon**

The grey completely disappears from his eyes, and his hands fly to my hips, holding me tight -but not too tight that it hurts.

“Simon…” His voice is deeper than it was before. It gives me goosebumps. “Are you sure?”

I nod, my heart pounding in my chest. “Yeah. I want… I want to feel you inside me. I want to know what it’s like.”

He always made it look like it was amazing, and the few times I asked him to finger me, it felt great.

I was never ready to go further than fingers back then, but now… Well, right now having his cock in me is all I can think about.

One of his hand suddenly moves from my hip to my neck, pushing my face against his and giving me a kiss that makes my head spin.

“You’re going to kill me, Simon Snow,” he growls against my lips as he gently applies pressure on the small of my back, silently asking me to stop holding myself up and completely lie on top of him.

The moment our skins are in contact, he flips us over.

In a second, his hands are under my armpits, pushing me up the bed so that my entire body is on it, my head nestled in his millions of pillows. 

His movements are so rough, but his eyes are so tender, though shining with want.

He kisses my cheek.

“What a lovely death that would be…” he whispers, the words caressing my skin as softly as his fingers on my ribcage. 

“Baz, please,” I say, because as much as I want him to explore my body and to explore his, I’m achingly hard and I’ve dreamt of this, of being in a bed with Baz, for months. “ _Fuck me_.”

I thought it’d feel embarrassing or humiliating to say it. It doesn’t. I couldn’t be embarrassed about wanting it that much, not when it makes him look at me like _that_.

Like I’m his next meal, and the most precious thing he’s ever seen at the same time. 

“I’m going to, love,” he says with a soothing voice that shakes a little. _Love_. And he’s not saying it to make fun of me this time. My eyes water. “I’m going to make you feel so good.”

He kisses his way down my chest reverently, but not _slowly._ I’m not sure he has it in him to tease me. He hasn’t fucked in a while either, after all, though it has been a _significantly_ longer while for me. 

“You’re so gorgeous, Simon,” he says, looking at me through his eyelashes.

His face is still against my skin, so it’s a bit of an awkward angle, but I can still see the sincerity in his eyes.

“I’ve never seen anyone as devastatingly handsome as you,” he continues as his lips reach my thighs.

That fucker. I thought he was going to blow me, with how this was going. 

He sucks a few bruises on the inside of my thighs, complimenting me in between each one. 

**…**

**Baz**

_My_ marks look so beautiful on _my_ boy.

**…**

**Simon**

“Baz,” I say as I squirm, to try and remind him that I asked him to fuck me, not do whatever _this_ is. “I need you.”

His groan vibrates against my skin. 

“Give me the lube. It’s in the drawer on your left,” he says, and he starts licking and biting and sucking my thigh again.

Crowley, he seems to have his mind set on marking me. I wouldn’t be so mad at it if I wasn’t so _horny._

I’d gladly let him cover my body in love bites but not _now._

I scramble to grab the lube, patting the inside of the drawer awkwardly until my hand closes around it.

It’s still the same fancy looking thing as he used back then.

I toss it to him, and he catches it while still working on the hickey he’s giving me.

That’s kind of hot. 

The sound of the lube opening and being poured is very fucking hot too.

He kisses my thigh tenderly before straightening his back, sitting between my legs as he covers three fingers in lube.

My skin is fucking burning.

I reach down to palm my cock, offer myself some relief, but he slaps it away. Fucking prick.

“I said I was going to take care of you, my love. Don’t worry about a thing.”

_My love._

My heart is so full, I can’t even complain that he isn’t letting me touch myself.

And then I have _no_ reason to complain because one of his fingers is circling my rim as his lips kiss the tip of my cock.

“Ready, love?”

“Just fucking finger me already Baz, Jesus Christ, I can take it.”

He laughs softly, and answers my _enthusiastic_ demand by pushing his finger inside me all at once. My breath stays stuck in my throat. 

“Is that alright?” 

His face is just far enough that his breath is cold on my cock and it’s driving me mad.

“Yes. Baz, please, more.”

“You’re so impatient,” he comments as he starts moving his finger inside me.

It’s a strange but not unpleasant sensation. I haven’t had anything up my arse since the last time Baz fingered me, it’s going to take some getting used to.

Soon enough, a second finger joins the first, and Baz licks along my shaft, sending a shiver down my spine. 

“Baz, more.”

It’s probably going to hurt a little, I’m barely stretched enough for two fingers, but I don’t want to fucking wait.

“Shh,” he says, kissing my hip bone again. “I’ll give you more love, just wait a moment.”

I whine at that, which makes him smile.

He moves his fingers inside me expertly, brushing my prostate but purposely not hitting it because he’s cruel and sadistic, and…

And _holy fuck_ , he wraps his lips around my cock, taking me as deep as he can in one go.

I stop breathing, my eyes going wide at the rush of pleasure as I’m trapped in Baz’s wet, hot mouth.

He starts bobbing his head. 

_Fuck_ , he’s so fucking good at sucking cock.

“Baz… Baby… Fuck… Feels good…”

It feels _so_ good that I only notice his third finger when a knuckle is already inside me.

I grind down, seeking more. It’s a bit uncomfortable but it feels fucking mindblowing, coupled with his damn tongue on my cock. 

Once his finger is completely inside me, he sucks my cock more slowly, looking at my face with great attention as he stills his hand to let me time to adjust. 

When I don’t feel uncomfortable anymore, I rock my hips, and he starts moving his fingers again, curling them just the right way and sucking me eagerly.

I throw my head back.

It’s so good.

It’s so much.

**…**

**Baz**

My Simon, moaning shamelessly, gripping my sheets as I pleasure him with my mouth and fingers… it’s the most beautiful of sights.

It’s a sight that only _I_ should have ever gotten to see…

An unusual, burning feeling of jealousy grows in my chest when I think that someone else has seen him like this too, naked and turned on.

It doesn’t matter.

He’s here now.

With me.

He’s _mine._

He’s mine, and he won’t ever be anyone else’s.

**...**

**Simon**

“B… Baz…” I choke out. “‘m good please Baz fuck me.”

I feel so close already, and I don’t want to come like this. I want to come on his cock. 

I feel so empty when he takes his fingers out of me. I rock my hips, seeking a contact that I asked to be gone, and he smiles around my cock before retreating too.

I was close to overstimulation seconds ago, and now I’m aching for more touch. 

“Pillow under your hips,” he says, and my hand automatically reaches for a pillow.

I don’t even have to think about it, I just obey.

I wonder if he’s using his thrall on me. 

I feel myself getting harder. 

Shit, I don’t think he is but it sure would be very fucking hot. 

He positions me a little better, spreading my legs more than they were to have better access -which makes me blush up to the roots of my hair. 

He pours lube in his hand, and as he strokes himself with that hand, his other hand caresses my side, feather-light fingers tickling me in a delicious way.

“You’re a work of art,” he whispers, his eyes surveying my body.

**…**

**Baz**

I’m so lucky to have him.

My gorgeous love.

**…**

**Simon**

He lines himself up with my hole, making my hands clench around the bed sheets even harder. I might rip them. I don’t think he’d care much.

One of his hands close around my hip, his thumb rubbing calming circles on my skin, while the other holds my leg up under my knee.

“Simon,” he says, his voice deep and hot, but soft and full of tenderness. “Are you ready, my love?”

I’m going to cry if he keeps calling me that and it won’t be because of the -hopefully mindblowing- sex. 

I nod. “Yeah.”

He leans down to kiss my knee.

“Tell me if you want me to stop or slow down,” is the last warning he gives me before he pushes in.

It’s… different. And weird. 

But it doesn’t hurt too bad, so I don’t stop him. The last thing I want is for him to stop.

He looks into my eyes as he bottoms out.

It burns a bit, but it’s a good kind of burn.

It burns because _Baz Pitch’s cock is inside of me._

Fuck, I hope it feels as good for him as fucking him felt for me. 

He puts the leg he’s holding on his shoulder and _oh fuck it feels even better_. 

“Kiss me,” I whimper. 

And he does.

He bends down, which changes the angle, getting a strangle sound out of me, a sound that he swallows when his lips catch mine. 

Tears are pricking my eyes and he hasn’t even rolled his hips once. 

“Mine,” he whispers against my lips. It sounds low and possessive, and it’s the only thing I want to be hearing from him. “You’re mine, Simon.”

His.

Yes.

That’s what I am.

I’m his.

I’ve been since we met.

”Yes,” I answer, my voice shaking a little. Yes, Baz, I’m yours. Only yours.”

He fucking _growls_ which has no right to be this sexy.

“You are mine,” he says again. I think he likes saying. _I_ like hearing him say it. “And I’m yours, my love.”

He kisses me again before I can answer, all of his passions going into this kiss, as he starts pulling back, only to thrust back in slowly, making me feel every single inch of him.

It’s excruciating.

I didn’t think it would feel this good. I didn’t think it _could_ feel this good.

His thrusts are deep, but still slow, and his kisses are becoming slow too, to match the pace of his hips.

The thing he says when he next pulls back completely shatters me.

“I love you so much, my Simon.”

**…**

**Baz**

This is how it was always supposed to me.

Me in him.

Or him in me. 

It doesn’t matter.

All that matters is that our bodies are connected.

We’re one.

My Simon and I.

**…**

**Simon**

After the first time he rocks into me _hard_ , making my toes curl, everything becomes a blur of want and pleasure and _love_.

So much love.

I can practically feel it in the gentle way he touches my skin and the adoring way he looks at me, even when his thrusts are rough and urgent. 

He’s panting heavily over me, sometimes saying things that look like my name and “fuck” and “love” and “so good”, and his hair is falling in his face messily, beautifully.

I hope my brain works enough to remember this. To remember the blissed out look on Baz’s face as he fucked me. This isn’t something I ever want to forget.

It’s so different than making him feel good by driving my cock into him, but it’s just as overwhelming.

**…**

**Baz**

Mine. He’s mine…

But… But…

 _Not enough_ …

**…**

**Simon**

I see his fangs drop before he even opens his mouth. It makes my eyes roll back.

His fucking _fangs._

They feel so good in my flesh.

“Simon…” He has this cute lisp that make the way he says my name a little funny -very hot. “Love, can I bite you?”

Pleasure and need have rendered his voice hoarse and desperate. It’s the prettiest of sounds.

The most arousing too.

“You don’t have to ask,” I breathe out, repeating what he said to me earlier.

The rhythm of his thrusts slows down for a moment, as he kisses and licks the spot on my neck he wants to bite. 

I whimper when I realize what _spot_ it is.

It’s where he always wanted to bite me, but never did, because it was too risky. 

Right in my carotid artery.

His fangs graze the skin and I shiver.

He could kill me if he didn’t stop at the right time.

The thought shouldn’t be as thrilling as it is, but it’s only thrilling because I know he won’t.

I trust him not to.

Just to make sure that he knows, I put one of my shaky hands against the back of his head, keeping it where it is, and I say, “Please.”

Please bite me.

Please get drunk on what keeps me alive.

Please make me yours. Completely.

**…**

**Baz**

“Please.”

I sink my fangs in his flesh.

The blood is as overwhelming as I thought it would be.

It’s thick and hot and it flows fast in my mouth, as fast as my hips as I start fucking him again.

It’s his life.

His life in between my hands.

Under my lips.

His life colouring my cheeks and filling me.

Just like I’m filling him.

I’m inside him.

Completely.

And he’s mine.

Completely.

_Mine, mine, mine._

My Simon.

My mate.


	49. Chapter Forty Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *in a scornful voice* look at that, people being in love. disgusting

**Simon**

Baz has the _audacity_ to try to leave the bed.

I tighten my arms around him and wrap my legs around his hips. His body is weighing on top of mine, and his now soft cock is still inside me, and I don’t want it any other way.

“Don’t go,” I groan against his shoulder.

He laughs softly.

“I won’t be gone for long, love, don’t worry, but I have to get a few things. Believe me, you won’t like having dried come on you.”

“I don’t care. Stay.”

He doesn’t.

He presses an apologetic kiss to my cheek as his cock slips out of me. I whine. It feels… empty. And now that his cock isn’t here to keep it there, his come starts dripping out of me, which isn’t exactly a pleasant sensation. 

He kisses me again, on my other cheek. 

“It’s okay darling. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He pushes himself up, and steps out of the bed. He stands there for a second, and I wonder why, until I notice his gaze is fixed between my legs. It should probably embarrass me more to have him look at me like that. 

Then, he has some sort of instant thought and two of his fingers are in my arse.

_Fuck._

I whimper as I feel him move his fingers, as if he was…

He takes them out of me and _fuck_ , he’s scooped some of his come on them. That’s so hot.

“Open your mouth,” he says, his voice tender but firm. 

I don’t think about it, I just do, and he pushes his fingers in my mouth.

My eyes roll back as I close my lips around them. That’s fucking hot.

He likes to say he’s disturbed. I’m just as disturbed as him.

I’m not used to the taste of come anymore, so it’s a little weird, but it’s _Baz’s_ , so it’s still good. I lick his fingers clean eagerly, fighting to keep my eyes open. I don’t want to stop looking at his eyes, darkened by lust, but mine are closing on their own accord. 

He takes his spit slicked fingers out of my mouth, and wipes them on the bed sheets. 

They’re stained with blood and come anyway. A little bit of saliva isn’t a dramatic addition to the general mess.

I notice, not without displeasure, that his cock is getting hard again.

I don’t really want -or _can_ \- go for another round right now, but it’s nice to know…

**…**

**Baz**

I leave the room before I can do something stupid like biting him again. Or fucking him again. Or jerking myself off over him until he’s covered in _my_ come, not his. 

My sadistic brain sends me a mental image of my Simon with come on his face and I fucking _growl_ like a bloody beast.

Merlin, what’s wrong with me. I was never possessive like that, but now I have this irrepressible need to mark him as mine. 

Probably some stupid animal response from the vampire part of my brain. I hate it. I’ll have to ask Lamb about that.

I shake my head. Now is not the time to have a crisis over my vampire instincts kicking in. Simon Snow is in my room, alone, and waiting for me to be back. 

I go to the kitchen and grab the first food I can find that Snow will like -blueberry muffins- and a little carton of orange juice -my sisters visit me sometimes, alright?- because if I only give him water as a drink he’ll just swallow the muffins and _not_ drink because he’s a child.

Then, I go to the bathroom and wet a towel with warm water. It’s going to drip on the floor all the way to my room, but that’s nothing a spell can’t fix and I don’t have it in me to look for something to put it in.

When I enter the room, I see Simon, naked and half asleep on my bed -and pouting, because he isn’t happy I left. Merlin, that’s a sight I want to see every day of my life. 

“Um, took you too long,” he complains when he hears me, not making the effort to open his eyes to look at me. 

“I’m extremely sorry, love,” I answer, amusement in my voice, though really the fact that he wants my presence that much makes my heart flutter. 

I sit on the bed next to him, letting go of the muffins and orange juice. “I’m going to clean you up, don’t be surprised.” 

I’d rather warn him, since he can’t see anything.

He hums in agreement, and so I start wiping him down. His body reacts to the warm water when he first feels it on his skin, but then he just relaxes, moaning softly. 

With my other hand, I stroke his hair. Oh, how much I missed touching his curls. He leans into the touch, the shadow of a smile on his face.

He’s beautiful.

Once his stomach is clean, I hesitate to clean him lower. He definitely won’t be taking a shower before he has a good night’s sleep, and I know quite well how uncomfortable it is to wake up with dried come sticking to my thighs and arse, but I don’t know, it seems… intimate.

Yes, I know that I was thrusting inside him as I sank my fangs in his neck a dozen minutes ago, thank you very much. 

“Simon?”

He hums. 

“Can I clean between your legs too?”

He flushes slightly, but he nods. “Yeah, if you want.”

So I do.

It’s less awkward than I thought, and it makes his breathing catch when I clean around his rim, which is a plus. I press my thumb to his hole teasingly, and I see a smile spread on his face after he lets out a pleased sigh.

I didn’t think he would like that like he did. Getting fucked, I mean. I knew he wasn’t against having my fingers inside him, but even that didn’t happen often and he never showed any sign of wanting more. 

I didn’t think _I_ would like that like I did. For as long as I could want sex, I’ve wanted Simon to fuck _me_ , I never really considered topping. Even when I was having one night stands, it didn’t appeal to me. 

But Merlin, did I like it. It felt like how sucking his cock feels. I set the pace, it was what _I_ was doing that made him moan and pant and scream. _I_ decided how _I_ gave him pleasure. 

I still prefer when he takes his pleasure in me, though. 

I throw the towel on the floor -being around him really impacts my manners- and then I reach for the juice. He needs to eat, after losing as much blood as he did, but having something liquid down his throat before he eats couldn’t hurt.

He frowns when he hears me open the straw. 

“What’s that?”

“Orange juice, love. I brought muffins too.”

“‘m not hungry I wanna cuddle,” he mumbles, blindly reaching for my arm, probably to pull me down with him.

I smile.

“Not hungry? You? I should have recorded it.”

He flips me off. 

“You’re not allowed to be mean to me when your dick was in my arse a few minutes ago, Baz.”

“You asked for it. Now, open your mouth, my love.”

He smiles, and it’s so soft, it makes my heart do something funny in my chest.. “I never want you to stop calling me that.”

“Sap,” I say, because it’s all I can do not to let myself get overwhelmed. This is so much. I knew the sex would be easy to get back. I didn’t think the tenderness would be too. “Now _open your mouth_.”

He finally does. He still doesn’t open his eyes, though. He’s so tired. I want to wrap him in my arms and let him sleep, but I need to keep him awake a little longer. 

I slowly make him drink the orange juice and feed him two muffins, while still stroking his hair.

I put the empty juice box and muffin wrappers on my nightstand, and then I finally _-finally-_ properly join Simon in bed.

I lie down on my back, and before I can even make a move to pull him close, he’s clinging to me like he used to ; our legs intertwined, his arm across my stomach, his head on my chest. 

“’night babe,” he says, his voice muffled by my skin.

**…**

I wake up to the feeling of my chest being peppered with kisses. 

I open my eyes, still foggy with sleep, and they meet my favourite shade of blue. 

“Hi,” Snow says, before kissing me again -under the last of my right ribs. 

“Hi. I could get used to this.”

“What?” he asks with a smile.

He kisses just above my navel...

“You in my bed. You waking me up with kisses.”

…on my left hip…

“You know what?”

…above my navel again.

“Me too,” he admits, before kissing me where my heart is.

I give him a smile. 

I thread my fingers through his hair, tugging on it lightly. “Come give me a good morning kiss.”

He giggles as he crawls up my body, making my heart feel too big for my chest. He’s so lovely. 

He gives me my good morning kiss, caressing my cheek as he does. 

Then, he goes back to kissing my chest. Crowley. My heart is going to burst.

The third kiss he places on my chest, right over my sternum, is much more gentle than the others. “I’ve wanted to kiss this tattoo since I first saw it,” he admits, looking up at me.

Oh. Yes, the tattoos… I almost forget they’re here sometimes.

I’m glad Simon doesn’t seem to hate them. I already know his take on makeup and jewelry, but not on tattoos. There were chances he was one of those people who think tattoos are ugly.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He kisses it again, before he shifts to lie down next to me instead of on top of me. He props himself up on his elbows and looks at me curiously. “Tell me about them. Your tattoos.”

“What do you want me to say about them?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Why did you get them? Which one did you get first?”

“Well,” I say, a little uncomfortable. Snow has ignored -or at least pretended to ignore- my scars so far, but if I start talking about them… well he can’t pretend they don’t exist anymore. “The first was this one.” I move my right arm to bring his attention to the tattoo. “I was sick of seeing my scars so clearly, so I got them covered.”

He cringes. 

“Baz…” His voice sounds sad.

I don’t like that, so I grab his hand, squeezing it. “It’s alright. It was a long time ago, and I haven’t done it in over a year now.”

That doesn’t make him look any less concerned.

“Still, I… It’s _my_ fault, Baz I’m so sorry.”

I sigh.

I don’t want to be talking about this. But I don’t want it to be on his mind either. 

“Simon, listen to me.” I rub circles on his hand with my thumb. “I’m not going to lie and pretend that the state I was in after you broke up with me didn’t have any impact on the fact that I started self-harming again, but… I’m also just really fucked in the head,” I say with a tense laugh. “I don’t want you to blame yourself, love. The blame is all on me, I was the one holding the blade.”

“But…”

I shush him. “No ‘but’s. It’s not your fault. Who knows, maybe even if we had stayed together I would have reached a point where I needed to hurt myself. I wasn’t okay, Simon. Even when I was dating you, I wasn’t okay. It wasn’t _just_ the break up. Don’t make yourself sick over it. As I said, I’m better now. I talked to someone, I have medication, and I even sort of have my life together. That’s what matters. You better than anyone else should know that we can’t live in the past if we want to be able to go on.”

I lean in to kiss the worried lines on his forehead. When I move back, I’m glad to see he looks a little more relaxed. 

“Do you want to hear about my tattoos, now?”

He gives me a small, tense smile, and nods. “Yeah.”

So I start talking again, hoping to make him feel better soon. I hate seeing him look all sad.

“So yeah, I got a snake tattooed, because it looked pretty. Most of the first tattoos I got where just there to be pretty, I didn’t want to put any thought into it, just cover my skin in beautiful pieces. That’s the case for the butterfly, the flowers I have on my sides, though I have to admit that if some of them are coloured in blue, it’s because it makes me think of you.” He smiles at that. Good. “I have other flowers on my spine, I could show you when I’ll feel like flipping over, if you want. I really love how flowers look. I also have the eye on the back of my hand.” I show him my hand. “I thought it would look cool, but also kind of creepy.”

“It does,” Simon says, his eyes on the dark ink. 

“Why, thank you.” I turn my arm to show the inside of it. Simon tenses a bit when he sees more scars, but thankfully, I didn’t butcher my left arm as much as my right one -I’m left-handed, it’s less practical… “Those are a bit silly, but I quite like them. I got them because I noticed that something I did sometimes was colouring inside one of my other tattoos, when I needed a distraction or was feeling a little jittery. So I got this specifically to colour it. I didn’t choose what it was, I wanted to let my tattoo artist have a little fun. They had done all of my other tattoos, I knew they wouldn’t disappoint. And they didn’t.”

I really like that tattoo. It’s simply a circle, with small, graphic elements in it that give me a lot of parts to colour in. The circle isn’t a complete circle, though, it’s broken by two arms reaching out like on the Creation of Adam. I love the difference between the modern style of the graphic elements and the use of something directly inspired by Renaissance art.

I look up at Snow, and see that he’s smiling softly.

“You colour your tattoo. That’s so cute.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” I groan.

“I’m not making fun!” he answers immediately, enthusiastically. Adorable moron. “I really think it’s cute.”

“Um. Whatever. So that’s all for the completely meaningless tattoos. Now the rest…”

Where do I start? So many of them are somehow about him. 

Let’s begin with one that _isn’t._ The one that might upset him the most… 

“The dagger.” It’s on my left arm too. I try twisting it enough to show. The top of the dagger is over my elbow, the bottom under my elbow, with a blank space in between the two, as if it was going through my skin. “You won’t like this one,” I warn him.

He frowns.

“Go on, what does it mean?”

“I got it on the anniversary, if you can call it that, of… my attempt. I… It was also the last time I cut, and since I am, as previously mentioned, fucked in the head, I decided to congratulate myself by getting a dagger tattooed, so that I’d _literally_ have a blade in my skin, all the time.”

As I expected, he cringes.

“I don’t like how your brain works,” he groans, cuddling up to me.

The comment makes me laugh.

“I don’t always like it either…” I say. “Do you want to know about the rest of my tattoos or are you tired of hearing me talk?”

He kisses my shoulder. “I’m never tired of hearing you talk. Please go on.”

“Alright… I have another rather ironic one.”

Snow mumbles something that looks like “I’m not going to like this.”

I chuckle softly before I shift, to show him the tattoo on my collarbone, on the same side of my body as my bite marks from when I was turned. 

I see him read the word. “Memento mori? What does that mean?”

“Remember that you must die. I got this one after Lamb told me vampires were, in fact, immortal.”

“Why would you do that,” Snow says, rolling his eyes.

“The irony, Snow, the irony. No, but more seriously, I was rather shaken when Lamb confirmed that I was immortal, I don’t _want_ to be immortal, and I just… the sicker part of my brain told me this was a good way to cope with that.”

He snorts.

“You’re weird, Baz Pitch.”

“Nothing new about that, love,” I tell him as I kiss his hair.

I’m a bit nervous about telling him the meaning of my three last tattoos. One of them isn’t _obviously_ about him, so I can make it about something else, but the two others definitely are. 

“Tell me about the rest. What does that one mean?” Simon asks, pointing at the tattoo on my tigh.

“It’s a statue of two characters from greek mythology. Eros and Psyche.”

“Eros, like in erotic?”

I roll my eyes.

“Yes, Snow, Eros like in erotic. He’s the god of love and physical desire. That’s not why I got it. I just… I was really into greek mythology when I was a teenager, and I read a lot of myths. The myth of Icarus, and Eros and Psyche’s story were my favourite ones. I wanted to get one of them tattooed, and I went with Eros and Psyche because I find this statue particularly beautiful.”

He hums, before giving me one of his annoying, wide grins.

“You’re _such_ a nerd.”

I let go of his hand, only to stroke his back. I’ve been tempted to for a moment, but I knew it would get him riled up -anything can get Simon Snow riled up- so I wanted to wait until the moment when I’d show him how ridiculously in love with him I am. 

“Hush, or I won’t tell you about the two last ones. I’m sure they’re the most interesting,” I say with an enigmatic smile.

His eyes glint with curiosity. 

“Okay, I’ll be nice. Tell me.”

I let my hand wander on his hair for a second, ruffling his lovely bronze curls, before trailing my fingers up and down his spine again. It’s such a light touch that he shivers. He isn’t really ticklish, but still…

“You won’t see it from here, but I have a sun behind my left ear. I… I got it for you,” I admit, feeling the few blood in me _-his_ blood, Aleister Crowley- rush to my face. “You always made me think of the sun. I… Even if we weren’t together anymore… I wanted you to be part of me, somehow.”

His eyes go soft. A bit _too_ soft. I think he might cry.

Merlin, we’re both ridiculous.

“You’re such a sap,” he says, his voice full of emotion.

“You know that I am,” I answer tenderly. 

He kisses my shoulder again. It’s all he can reach in this position. He seems not to like that, because he moves until he’s on top of me, our bodies aligned and our legs tangled.

He’s so warm.

He rests his chin on his joined hands, his face close enough to mine that he only needs to tilt it slightly to kiss my chin. 

“What’s the last one?” he asks, blue eyes locking into mine. 

I give him a shy smile.

“Around and in between the flowers on my back, I have a few words… if you read them like a sentence, they read ‘You have bewitched me body and soul’.”

“That’s… That’s from Pride and Prejudice, right?”

I nod.

“Yes… As I see it, it’s when we were watching it that you realized you were in love with me, so it’s really… meaningful to me.”

His eyes shine with even more tears. They’re close to overflowing.

“It is. When I realized I loved you, I mean,” he says, his breath on my lips before he catches them.


	50. Chapter Fifty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> erm...  
> so...  
> well...
> 
> ...last chapter

**Simon :** so uh are we dating or not though?

 **Baz** : I beg your pardon?

 **Simon** : you and i

 **Simon** : are we boyfriends

 **Simon** : or did last night mean nothing

**…**

**Baz**

I know that it all just comes down to Snow’s inability to use words correctly, but my heart still clenches when I read his message.

_Did last night mean nothing?_

Last night meant everything to me. I had my Simon, back in my arms where he belongs, for the first time after so long.

My Simon who trusted me enough to let me make love to him.

My Simon who trusted me enough to let me bite him, at such a dangerous spot.

My Simon who clung to me like it pained him not to have my skin against his, his skin beautifully covered with my marks.

The fact that he could even consider this meant nothing…

**…**

**Baz** : I did not mean nothing, Snow. If you want to be my boyfriend, then yes, we can be boyfriends.

 **Simon** : but didn’t you, like, want to take things slow?

 **Baz** : Do you think we aren’t going slowly enough? (This is a genuine question I’m not being sarcastic)

 **Simon** : i mean we went on a date yesterday and then we shagged and now we may be boyfriends? that doesn’t seem to be very slow to me you know

 **Baz** : Well, as I see it, I’d say it’s fine. We’ve been friends for months now, we’ve actually learnt to like each other, even when we’re not having sex, and you have to admit that we’re also been flirting for a while. To me, we’ve already done the courting. The date we had last night was just the excuse that made it all official. So personally, I think that we have taken enough time already and that we can be together again, but I’ll leave the choice up to you. If you feel we need to wait more, I’m fine with that.

**…**

**Baz**

I wish this was a conversation we were having face to face, but if Snow went out of his way to text me about it, it’s because he _doesn’t_ want us to talk about it face to face.

Texting is easier for him.

I suppose it’s less scary, to talk about things like those through a screen. 

**…**

**Simon**

After reading Baz’s message, I hesitate.

He’s right, we’ve waited a lot already. Hell, we’ve been doing this friends thing since November, and now it’s May. And I do want to be with Baz again. I want nothing more than to be with Baz again.

But…

What if it doesn’t work this time either?

What if, when we get together, he realizes that he actually liked his life better when he was with Lamb and leaves me? After all, Lamb has much more to offer Baz than I do. 

He’s the same kind of person as him, for one. Posh. Elegant. Cultured. I’m sure Lamb knows exactly which item of cutlery to use when at fancy dinners. He also must be able to have a conversation with Malcolm about boring adult stuff without sounding dumb of disinterested. He can take Baz on travels around the world -I know he wants to go to Egypt to see the country his family comes from- without freaking out about expenses or being completely useless and nervous there. 

He brings Baz peace, he makes him feel safe. 

And…

And he’s a vampire too. He can give him forever. 

Besides, even if Baz keeps saying he isn’t in love with him… you don’t date someone for months and _not_ love them, that doesn’t make any sense. 

**…**

**Simon** : i don’t know what i want to be honest… i mean i know i want you to be my boyfriend but i just… i’m so confused and… fuck, do you think i could come visit you? or you could come visit me? there’s some stuff i want to talk to you about, really talk not through text.

 **Baz** : Okay, I’m coming over. Make some tea, Snow, be a good host.

 **Simon** : i won’t make tea for you

**…**

**Simon**

I do make tea for him. That kind of tea he prefers that I don’t really like that I only bought for him, when he visits. I think he knows I only bought it for him. I think he likes it.

I put the cup down in front of him, before taking a seat too. I don’t have a drink, though having something to make my throat less dry could have helped…

Baz takes a sip of his scalding tea, swallowing it without even cringing. He always drinks things that are burning hot. Maybe this whole fire mage thing makes him less vulnerable to heat and burns. Or maybe he’s just weird. That’s very likely too.

“So,” he says, as the ceramic of his cup hits the wood of the table. “What did you want to talk about?”

I squirm uncomfortably. I don’t want him to be upset, or to think that I don’t want to be his boyfriend.

“I just…” I start, looking down at the sleeve of my shirt, which I’m fidgeting with. “I just don’t get why you would want to be with me when you could be with Lamb.”

His eyes go wide in surprise. His fingers, which were tapping his cup, freeze. 

“I love you, Simon,” is all he answers. He makes it sound like a universal truth, as if he were saying that the sky is blue and fire is hot. “That’s why I want to be with you and not Lamb.”

“But…” I pause, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. “But don’t you love _him_?”

He shakes his head slightly. “Not like that, Si. I won’t lie and say I don’t love him at all, but the love I have for him isn’t romantic, it’s nothing like what I feel for you. I’m sure you can understand that ; you were with Olivia, and you’re still close to her now, but you don’t love her like you love me, right? Even if you used to date her.”

**…**

**Baz**

Please don’t think I want Lamb more than I want you.

Please don’t think I love Lamb more than I love you.

“Yeah, I get that,” he says, thankfully. “But even if you love him a bit less than me… He could give you more than I ever could. I… You’re immortal, and so is he. The two of you… you could have forever. I can’t give you that. I’m going to grow old and die and you’ll be young forever.” 

Oh.

Merlin, I didn’t think Snow was thinking that far into the future. I certainly wasn’t. Well, I ignored it, rather, because Lamb did try to make me think about it.

It just seems so far away for me. He’s not even 20 yet, we still look the same, I don’t even know when I’ll stop aging. Maybe I have already, maybe I have more years, I have no clue. Lamb has never met someone like me, bitten as a child, and Lamb is my only source of information when it comes to my vampirism.

I reach out to hold his hand over the table. “I’m not going to lie to you, it is a delicate situation, but it’s not a complete impasse. There are solutions. Personally, I don’t care if you grow old. I’ll love you just as much with grey hair and wrinkles than I do now. But if that’s not something _you_ want, well… I could always Turn you. We could have forever too.”

I’m not sure I’m thrilled by this idea.

Simon Snow is so… _alive._

It’s what always struck me about him. 

How fast his heart beats.

How red his face gets when he’s angry, embarrassed, turned on.

How alive he is. Alive enough for the both of us. I would hate to be the one who takes that away from him. 

But at the same time… The thought of losing him breaks my heart, and Turning him would make it practically impossible for him to die…

“You would?” he says, his eyes so wide that they look too big for his face. “Turn me I mean?”

“If you really wanted it,” I answer carefully. I don’t want him to get too excited about this. 

Simon Snow and his inexplicable vampire fetish.

“But,” I continue, my voice firm. “It’s something that we will really have to think long and hard about.” I raise his hand that I’m holding and kiss the inside of his palm. He blushes. “Anyhow, I love you, Si, and I’m sure that you’re the one that I want. I _know_ you’re the one I want. Not Lamb. Not any other man. You. Only you.”

Because you’re my mate.

I don’t say that.

He says he has read my book, he should know about mates, but it’s Simon. Surely he hasn’t connected the dots. 

In a very Simon Snow fashion, he tugs on my hand, forcing me to stand up. I almost knock my cup of tea, but I don’t have time to worry about that because Snow is pulling me onto his lap. He wraps one of his arms around my waist, keeping me close, while the other snakes in my hair to tilt my head down.

And then he’s kissing me.

**…**

**Simon**

Baz’s lips against mine feel like this absolute truth he expressed through the tone of his voice, earlier, when he said he loves me. It’s the right thing. The _only_ right thing. No other body could ever fit this well with mine.

I know soulmates are bullshit, but if they were not, I know he’d be mine.

**…**

**Baz**

I don’t even realize I’m undressing him and he’s undressing me until I feel his warm skin pressed against mine, making me moan into the kiss.

“Snow,” I say, as his hips thrust up, his hard cock rubbing against mine. “Snow, we’re not shagging in your kitchen.”

“Bedroom them.”

Bedroom.

That seems like a good plan.

**…**

Tumbling in bed with him is so familiar and so foreign at the same time.

My body recognizes the weight of Simon’s body on it, it recognizes the way he kisses down my neck, following the same path he always did, conscientiously avoiding my bite marks, it recognizes the clean smell of the generic grocery store shampoo he uses, but it also recognizes all of this as things from the past.

We may have had sex last night, it was nothing like we used to. It was me on top of him, me in him. It was new.

His lubed fingers pressing inside me isn’t something new.

He’s sucking love bites on my thighs, trying to mark me like I marked him, as he fingers me open. It’s a scenario that happened so many times.

But it was so long ago…

I squeeze my thighs around his head, which makes an insanely arousing growl escape his lips. “ _Fuck Baz._ ”

“Yeah, I wish you could do just that,” I say, because I’m not above bad sexual jokes. 

I feel his breathy laughter on my skin, before he kisses me where my leg meets my stomach.

“You haven’t worked on your impatience, have you?” he answers, sounding particularly amused, as he puts a third finger inside me.

I roll my hips. 

“Just get on with it.”

“I’m going to,” he says, and it doesn’t sound like how it did when he said it before teasing for another half hour. “But before that…” He looks up at me, his eyes serious. “Is there anything that… you know… makes you uncomfortable, apart from the stuff I already know?”

Oh. Of course.

Merlin, I should have never let him know about Halloween. I don’t want him to treat me like he did after Roman all over again. 

“Nothing,” I answer with a comforting smile. “Now _get on with it._ ”

He starts kissing my thigh again.

I don’t want to beg him, the bastard would enjoy it too much, but my skin is on fire and I _need_ to feel him inside me.

It’s been so long.

Too long.

How could I ever go this long without Simon Snow filling me.

I push my hips back demandingly one more time, and he seems to decide to stop torturing me this time.

He takes his fingers out of me with an obscene, wet pop, before changing our position.

He puts both of my knees on his shoulders, before bending down, folding me in half. Both his hands look for mine around my head just as his eyes find mine. 

He pecks my lips softly.

“Ready?”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Not when he’s looking at me with so much love in his intense blue gaze, not when he’s about to make love to me for the first time in more than a year. 

He pushes inside, slowly, like he always does for the first thrust, and I finally feel complete.

**…**

**Simon**

We make love until nightfall. 

Then we stop because I’m hungry, so we heat up a pizza that we eat on the floor, in only our pants, Baz complaining about the mushrooms on the pizza.

Then we eat ice cream for dessert.

Well.

I eat ice cream for dessert. Off Baz’s body.

I lick his skin clean until it’s sticky from my saliva and not the ice cream, and until he’s writhing underneath me, begging for my tongue to go somewhere else.

I eat his arse and stroke his cock until he comes.

And then he’s sticky again.

So I have to lick him clean.

Again.

Then I flip him over, and I fuck him with only my spit as lube, his cheek moving against the rug with each thrust, progressively turning a vivid shade of pink. It hurts and he likes it.

I keep driving into him even after he has come, when he’s so over sensitive he’s crying and can’t even speak anymore, only stopping when I feel him close to tipping over the edge of good overstimulation and bad overstimulation. 

He’s trembling when I make us roll over until I’m on my back on the floor and he’s on top of me, chest against chest. I hold him gently and talk nonsense to him until he comes back down, and then he takes it upon himself to make me feel as good as I made him feel.

He goes get the lube in my room, and I expect him to use it to prepare me, but instead, he just coats my cock with it, wanking me until I’m hard, before sinking on it. He rides me until I come and then he stays seated on my cock as he fingers me, which is a rather weird and awkward angle but I’m too horny to care about that. 

By the time three of his fingers are deep inside me, I’m hard _again_ so he rides me _again_ -bless vampire stamina _._ When he feels that I’m close, he gets off my cock, which I would have complained about if I hadn’t felt his inside me seconds later. He fucks me through my orgasm, kissing me like my lips are oxygen.

And then, because he _really_ has to blow my mind, he bites my neck and I feel like I’m going to pass out. It’s all too much. 

He has always been too much.

**…**

**Baz**

I lick Snow’s wound conscientiously, enough that he’ll stop bleeding, but not enough that it will be completely healed. Back then, I would always lick until his bite marks disappeared. Now I want nothing more than for evidence of the fact that he gave himself to me to be scattered all over his body. 

He’s mine.

And I want the whole world to know it.

This kind, passionate, beautiful nightmare of a boy is mine. 

He’s breathing heavily under my tongue, trying to catch his breath after our… intense activities.

This is how he should always be. So well fucked that all he can do is pant underneath me as I clean the wound I just drank his blood out of.

Once I’m done with his bite mark, I give him a hickey on the other side of his neck -because I _can_ , because he’s _mine_ \- before I shift to lie down on top of him, my head just over his heart, listening to the fast beat of it.

It’s one of my favorite sounds in the world.

Simon Snow’s beating heart. The audible proof that Simon Snow is _alive_.

Not getting to hear it nearly drove me mad, sometimes, during the summers back at Watford. 

I kiss his chest.

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

His voice sounds wrecked.

I smile.

I did that.

**…**

**Baz** : Gentlemen, I have news.

 **Dev** : Mate it’s 2 in the morning wtf

 **Baz** : Well, you’re up aren’t you?

 **Dev** : Not the point

 **Niall** : what is it?

 **Baz** : *dramatic suspense*

 **Dev** : Fucking hell Basilton just say your goddamn thing

 **Baz** : Okay, okay.

 **Baz** : Simon and I are back together.

 **Dev** : FUCKING FINALLY

 **Dev** : THANK MERLIN, THEY’RE GONNA STOP BEING ANNOYING

 **Niall** : darling, it’s thank NIALL not thank Merlin

 **Niall** : they would have never stopped being idiots if I wasn’t here to help them with their bullshit

 **Dev** : True babe, you’re such a good friend

 **Niall** : ☺️

 **Baz** : Stop flirting on the group chat.

 **Dev** : Fuck you

 **Dev** : No actually fuck Snow

 **Baz** : Done. 

**Dev** : Gross

 **Baz** : You brought it up.

 **Dev** : Shut up 

**Baz** : You shut up.

**…**

**Baz** : Thank you, Niall. Really. You’re right, we would probably have never gotten to the point where we are now without your help. So sincerely, thank you for putting up with our bullshit. 

**Niall** : the pleasure is mine. you know all I want is for you to be happy

**…**

**Simon**

I fell asleep on the floor of my living room, but I wake up tangled in bed with Baz.

I cuddle up to him a bit more, a pleased sigh escaping my lips.

It’s the second morning in a row that I wake up next to Baz Pitch, and I couldn’t ask for anything better.

He’s so beautiful when he’s asleep, his face relaxed. He looks peaceful.

He never used to look this peaceful.

I glance at the alarm clock.

8:54. 

Baz won’t be up any time soon.

The adult thing to do would be to get out of bed and clean the kitchen and living room -we made a mess, last night. 

But my bed is so warm, and I’m so comfortable, here in Baz’s arms.

I close my eyes.

Cleaning can wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaand it’s over  
> well, the main stories are over  
> I still have a few ideas for this story -I don’t want to let it go...- but it will be one shots or very short multiple chapter stories, nothing as long as a Study  
> And there’s also the alternative ending, with Simon/Baz/Lamb but I have some things to figure out about it so I don’t think I’ll start posting it tomorrow... 
> 
> I hadn’t planned to end this story now, I thought I could go on for a few more days, but I realized that now that they’re together, I don’t have much to add, you know? And 50 is a cool amount of chapters, so I’m stopping here aha ^^
> 
> In case you might be interested in my work, even of it’s not for this story, I’m working on a new Snowbaz fanfic, that I’m going to update daily, like this one. The title is Ours and the first chapter is already posted ^^


End file.
